I want to start by saying that the purpose of this series “Ankle fracture diaries” is not to attract any kind of sympathy, or to worry you (especially friends and extended family who still don’t know about it). 

The purpose of this series is to express gratitude towards a rich community of people that I get to call “my people”.  Also, this is for anyone who has faced an extreme case of ankle fracture (open compound fracture), and needs some empathy. Above all, this series is a living testimony that God is good. All. The. Time. 

I am alive, well, and sane, and still very sarcastic (but not bitter) because God allowed it. 

I want to go linear, as recorded in my daily journal. 

A perfectly normal day turns crooked 

I work out, okay! Three to four times a week, along with hitting an average of 10,000 steps per day. Well, until two months ago, that is. 

September 17th, 2023. 8ish pm. It was a Sunday, and I was sweating it out on the 2nd floor of my 25-year-old house. My workout was interrupted by my mother’s voice coming from downstairs. I was supposed to make an omelet for my father. So I stopped, rolled out my yoga mat, tucking it beneath my right shoulder, a 3kg dumbbell in my right hand, and descended down the stairs. 

Within seconds I was down the floor, and had barely stepped my right foot on the landing when, all of a sudden, I lost my balance. Soapy water, slippery floor, who knows what!

What exactly do I remember of those deciding 15 seconds? 

I may have put my body weight on the left foot? 

Or did I throw the 3 kg dumbbell accidently on one side which landed on my left foot? 

My body reacted in self-defense seeing the danger, and somehow made me fall on my left ankle? 

I have no idea. Most of these are speculations, and the home camera only showed me going down and falling, no details. 

What I do remember is hearing a clear, resounding, unmistakable – crack! Like you take a thin wooden stick and deliberately break it into two-kinda crack. The landing was so loud, my father (who was watching news in a loud volume in the next room), Abhishek (brother) and Esther (sister-in-law), who live downstairs, heard it pretty clearly. 

I felt an acute Pain instantly, but what did make me cry out loud was the sound of the crack, and the sight of my left foot crooked on one side, as if lifeless. I knew, at once. Broken art thou bones!

I am failing here, in words, I know. As a writer, this may be my biggest failure to describe those two sensory feelings. The first person to reach me was a restless Jack – our dog, but he was promptly shoved away by Mom, and Dad who were suddenly bending over, saying things. Abhishek and Esther were the next to come. 

What followed was a sudden spurt of urgent decisions. 

Bring the office chair with wheels! 

Pull her up by the waist and seat her on the chair! 

Wheel her inside her room.

I realized I was breathing heavily, not crying, not shouting, just breathing loudly. I heard that heavy breathing, and someone got me a glass of water. Mom burst out crying, Dad followed. 

That’s when I woke from a slumber of numbness. I began consoling my parents, assuring them all was well, and would be alright. My mind returned into my being, all the reasoning kicked off. 

Amid the cries, and the stress, we prayed. Within a few minutes, I was in the front seat of Abhishek’s car, in my hideous pajamas, my left ankle resting on a pillow beneath. The X-ray looked bad. By 11.30 pm, I was being admitted in the Emergency Care unit of a really good hospital, and I felt I had lost any right or control over my body. 

Some hands put hospital clothes on me, others began to shave my legs and other parts, someone put a urine catheter – I stopped her and asked for a diaper instead, she refused. Several pairs of hands were measuring my foot for an ankle cage, and then a metal cage touched my foot amid pain, and bandaged tightly. One hand put a Pulse monitor on a finger, another pair of hands kept my clothes in a bag, and someone asked – Madam, are you breathing? 

These details are important because strangely enough, for me, these details distracted me from the pain I was feeling on my ankle, and the sensation of numbness on my now-ugly, massively swollen foot. I was losing control over my body, a group of strangers were making decisions for me while my family waited outside in horror. 

I am someone who has lived half her life despising allopathy. I have stayed away from hospitals for good 25 years, I stay fit so I have avoided chronic health conditions, and I never take pain-killers. Also, once a doctor I was crushing on, broke my heart, so really what the hell is medical science! You get the drift. 

So vocabulary such as – hospital, admit, surgery, operation, plates, X-ray, CT-Scan – and the realization that a group of human hands will decide if I would ever walk again – was second to the trauma of the crackle of my bones earlier. I was then taken on a stretcher to a beautiful window-side bed in a general ward, and I instantly felt God’s protective hand. 

A long night, and the helpless face of a brother 

From 1 am to 6.30 am, despite the pain-killers, I felt an excruciating pain that I cannot describe! You know who else felt it? Abhishek. Enduring pain is one thing, seeing your brother watch you in pain, is a different kind of agony. 

He held my hand the entire night, reading Psalm 23, praying and praying. The memory of his tears falling down his cheeks, and how his empty eyes stared at me when the tears dried, is forever etched in my memory. 

Through it all, my brother embodied what a selfless love of Christ looks like! He showed me what pure love for an older sister looks like, what resilience looks like. I have teared up more from this memory of his pious love than from the thought of that painfully long night. 

I have been asked prying, painful questions. 

Do you think you could have got to the hospital faster?

Do you think you could have straight away gone to the emergency room before the X-ray?

Do you think someone could have put ice on your ankle?

To all those questions, I have one reply – I am humbled, and indebted by what each of my family members did for me that night, and the days that followed. I would not change a single thing or decision that they took, if I were to relive that moment. As a family, they sprung to action, took swift decisions, and got me safe and sound to a comfortable, warm hospital bed, while contacting one of the best surgeons in town. 

Tell me the truth at once 

When Abhishek saw the X-ray (I refused to look at it), he knew how bad it was. He told me the truth. 

Fracture? Yes. 

Very bad? Yes. 

Weeks or even months? Yes. 

By 6.30 am, my mind and body were tired enough so I did sleep for a bit. In the morning, I saw the doctor. Dr Ankur Maheshwari, one of the best orthopedic surgeons in Indore, also told me truths in the most gentle way possible. 

We will give you a pain patch, it will numb your pain.

This is a bad fracture. Expect 3-4 months of recovery with complete bed-rest.

But it’s not something that cannot be fixed.

We will operate as soon as the swelling goes down.

I so appreciate people who can speak the truth while looking into your eyes, confidently. This prepared me mentally. Dr Ankur kept me in the loop the whole time, and applauded me for my bravery. To tell you the truth, bravery is so relative. He was confident, so I was brave. 

Facing the first surgery of my life

The swelling didn’t go away the next day either. I was sent home to wait it out. The universal standard is maximum 10 days. Mine took 13 days, plus three more days of national holiday, so 16 days in total. 

During the waiting time, there were good and bad days, and a tonne of concerned visitors – friends, family, and Jack who would be allowed to see me twice a day, and a swarm of well-wishers. 

We felt prayers being raised; and many people coming to help bringing things to eat, constantly checking with my family. The best of times, and the most trying of times. 

October 3rd, 2023. We checked into the hospital at 8 am. I relived the horror of many hands preparing me for the surgery. It was scheduled at 1 pm that day. One of my biggest prayers was: God, please let the anesthesia team not screw it up! Mom’s recollections of her experiences with anesthesia hadn’t gone too well on my mind. 

This one was heard instantly. At around 11 am, a kind woman Dr Dhruti, came to visit me. She said I was to be given a spinal anesthesia, I would be half-conscious, but mostly awake, and won’t feel a thing. Hallelujah! 

Dad and Abhi walked along with my stretcher until the OT gate. Dad was supposed to pray, but he choked, so Abhi did. 

At the operation theater, Dr Ankur and his competent team instantly made me comfortable. They all made it sound like a routine procedure, so that helped blur those numerous horrific surgery scenes I had watched on TV. 

Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong

I felt the details of injections pricking my spine, as Dr Dhruti’s team began, while I began my prayers. My bravery days effectively came to a halt. Many people, many voices, sounds, the OT table was cold, pulse monitor somewhere, lots of light, where am I?

Yet, I was awake enough to say my prayers. 

I had three specific prayers – 

Let the surgery go successfully, God, you be the hands of my doctors today.

Save my life, should anything go wrong.

If you choose to not save my life today, forgive my sins one last time, I am ready to meet you God.

I admit, that last prayer I have prayed even during plane turbulence in flights. But that specific day, I learnt all those turbulence prayers were preparing me for this specific moment.

A curtain was raised, blocking my body below my neck so I couldn’t see the operation. Thank God, who wanted to see my leg being cut open? Not me. 

Dr Dhruti asked me what kind of music I would like to hear. I wish I had said ‘Nearer my God to thee’, but I ended up saying: Please play American country music, like old songs. 

Dayum I couldn’t recognize most of the songs. But this is why I spent a good part of my half-conscious, waking hours trying to recognize the artist. After what to my mind felt like an hour and a half, everything was eerily still. Someone urgently asked someone to put off the AC, and put on blowers amid Dr Dhruti’s kindest gentlest voice – how are you feeling?

I am feeling freaking fine, I could have hugged her at this point. But something was off. Then Dr Ankur walked up to my head (since the curtain), put his hand on my forehead and said these words:

“The surgery was successful, we are just waiting for the pulse.” 

“Is that normal?”

“Yes, it’s normal.”

Quite a few people in the OT asked me if I was feeling okay. At the time, I had no idea that losing the pulse of the second toe directly connects with the heart, and brain. 

What did that mean exactly?

Since my ankle was swollen for 16 days, my foot experienced blood clotting. Open compound fracture usually also pierces part of the skin, leading to bleeding internally. This had created a spasm which had blocked the vein of the second toe that directly connects with the heart. The toe loses pulse, the heart may lose it too, or it could severely affect my brain. Not necessarily though, but there’s a chance. 

Apparently, after the surgery, the OT team had waited for two and a half hours for the pulse on the second toe to come back. They put blowers inside my blanket to warm my body. With the blowers on, my pulse was 60%, but the moment they were put off, it was falling fast. 

Then, all of a sudden, I heard a woman’s voice instructing the team to take me to the ICU, and monitor me from there. I took a deep breath. ICU? Something was not right. But wait, the doctor said all was normal. Looking back, I feel this calm state of mind that God gave me, was such a gift. Ignorance, as they say, is a true bliss. 

Within minutes, I was being taken on a stretcher to the ICU. I met my family on the way, their smiling faces just made my heart jump. I remember Dad asking me, “How are you feeling?”

“Weird, but good.” 

I learnt it was almost 7.40 pm. I was in OT from 1 pm that day. But I never felt the length of this time, somehow. 

When prayer became the protocol for the night 

In between the OT and the way towards the ICU when I saw my family, my pulse suddenly jumped from 60% to 80%. Why? Nobody knows. I think I do.

Abhishek later told me that the doctor became more hopeful after this point. He had never seen the doctor so worried since the first night of fracture. In the ICU, they put me on blowers again, some 47%, and that too on a distance. The blowers were supposed to keep my pulse alive. 

Meanwhile, Abhishek and Esther had texted all my closest friends, and extended family to pray while my parents were sent home, without any revelation of the details. They slept soundly that night, thinking the surgery went well, and God what a gift this was! 

Back at the ICU, however, the doctor was saying, “this night could be a nightmare.” Prayer was the biggest protocol left. 

And boy did people pray. A few of my church members had fasted that day for my surgery to go well, Abhishek created a WhatsApp group of our closest family friends, asking them to pray. 

Esther’s parents, Gladwin uncle and Shobhna aunty didn’t sleep the entire night, fasting and praying for my recovery. Usha Maasi, my aunt who lives in Pune, had no clue about the new complication but she woke up in the middle of the night, and felt led to pray for me. A group of my American students I had taught only last week were praying. The online community I am a part of – Single Influencer Community – was praying for the success of the surgery. 

Dr Ankur’s genuine concern 

I was in the operation theater for five hours. But that day until almost 11.30 pm, Dr Ankur didn’t leave my side. I heard him instruct the ICU staff about monitoring my pulse the entire night.  The blowers couldn’t be kept all night, for the danger of burning up my skin. All of a sudden, Dr Ankur asked me to move my toes. I had no sensation whatsoever below my knee, the anesthesia was still working. 

So I willed my mind to move my toes, and when I looked down towards my foot, voila, they were moving indeed! It’s the most bizarre thing because I didn’t feel any sensation there. Dr Ankur looked satisfied, and instructed the nurse to keep moving my toes every hour. 

The miracle that I live with every day 

Did I feel like my pulse was dying?

Not at all. I just remember feeling dizzy, a lot. I asked them to remove the blowers, I was so hot. By then, the pulse on the monitor was between 85-90%, the target being 100%. I was looking at the monitor thinking, this must be routine. 

Around 1 am or later, I began to feel this acute pain on the side of my left foot where they had operated. The effect of the anesthesia had worn off, and I felt the full extent. This pain was worse than what I had felt on the first night. I kept asking the nurse to move my toes, or help me, and she didn’t pay much attention. They didn’t allow Abhishek to stay, and I couldn’t call him because phones were not allowed. 

The nurse was no good, and despite Dr Ankur’s instructions, she did not call him to ask for pain-relief. At 6.30 am, I began to cry from the pain, and almost shouted at the nurse to call Abhishek. She finally did, and I asked him to keep massaging my toes. That really helped, Abhi’s hands felt like magic. 

By 7.30 am, Dr Ankur was back, and he told Abhishek the worst was over. The pulse was back to 100%. 

Abhishek shared these details with me almost after two weeks of surgery. I burst into tears the day he told me. Are you saying that God chose to save me? Despite that I prayed I was ready to meet Him?

Why did the pulse jump from 60 to 80 all of a sudden? How exactly did it automatically start going up from there all night? How did it finally reach 100 in the morning?

I am not worthy of this. Who am I? How could this be? 

God heard each one of my prayers, not because of who I was, but because of who He is. It’s a miracle I live with every day. The darkest valley that I have been through became the biggest tunnel of hope. This is no small matter. 

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 

I will fear no evil, for you are with me. 

Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Psalm 23: 4

God carried me through that night with a rod and a staff. 

And I am so determined not to waste it. 

If you are going through a dark valley, remember that every verse in Psalm 23 is true. Pay attention to these amazing words of my favorite song from Casting Crowns  – 

Who am I, that the Lord of all the earth would care to know my name?

Would care to feel my hurt?

Who am I, that the bright and morning star would choose to light the way

For my ever wandering heart?

Not because of who I am

But because of what you've done

Not because of what I've done

But because of who you are