I fell off my backyard deck on 4/3/2020. I know I had seriously injured both of my ankles, so I…read morewent to the closest Urgent Care. Let's just say I'll never make that mistake again.
When I was finally seen they sent a nurse in to take down my personal info. She had long fake nails (which is a big no-no for healthcare workers). I specifically told her we were there for x-rays.
After she left the PA came in. She herself had an injured foot/ankle and was motoring around on a little mobility scooter. She looked at my ankles and, even though the right one was swollen grotesquely, said she thought I didn't need x-rays. I rated my pain at an 8 out of 10. In response she leaned over and PINCHED my ankle. Fun! Then she said that since she couldn't be sure how much was swelling from the injury and how much was swelling from my excess weight, AND that since there wasn't "any bruising", (from an injury 2 hours old) she didn't think I needed x-rays. She suspected I had "just twisted the ankle" and recommended rest, ice, and elevation.
I still insisted on getting x-rays and she shrugged her shoulders and ordered them. Then the results came back, and Ms. PA Mobility Scooter came back in the room A LOT nicer. She announced that I had a broken fibula and ankle. Surprise! I'm sure glad I insisted three separate times that I NEEDED X-RAYS.
So after they discovered that- shock!- I actually DID have a serious injury, the PA wheeled me to a CLOSET and said I would be getting a temporary splint on the broken ankle, and that the other one was "just sprained". Two other nurses met me in the closet and one told me, "Get up on that table, we need you laying on your belly." Again, I informed them that I had two hurt ankles. It didn't make a difference.
By this point I was crying in pain and more than ready to go home. I stood up from the wheelchair, precariously balancing on my less-hurt-but-still-sprained ankle like some sort of ludicrous imitation of a stork, and leaped, one-legged, for that stupid table. By some miracle directly from Heaven I landed with my ribs on the edge and didn't break any of them. I even managed to scramble up onto the table. I pulled myself up the length of the table and lay there for the next 15 minutes while the two nurses tried to figure out how to splint me. Need I mention that these two professional medical personnel stood in the room and silently watched me claw and struggle and squirm my way onto the table without offering the slightest bit of help? Because they did.
By the way, the *highlight* of that experience was when the older nurse barked, "You need to keep your foot at a 90-degree angle!", YANKED my broken ankle back, and then PRESSED DOWN ON THE BOTTOM OF MY FOOT and until I screeched in pain and began crying big, fat, kindergartener tears and thinking unkind thoughts about clawing her eyes out. She HELD my ankle at that incredibly awful and painful angle. (At my follow-up a few days later, the nurses at the Orthopedic Clinic managed to wrap my ankle JUST fine while I was sitting peacefully in my wheelchair.)
The crap icing on the crap sundae was when the PA gave me my discharge paperwork. The FIRST THING on this handout- before my care instructions that told me how to CARE FOR A BROKEN LIMB- was a MyPlate illustration, advising me on how much of what types of foods I should eat in order to be healthy.
I needed extensive surgery on my ankle and am currently recovering. My orthopedic surgeon Dr. Beatty has told me more than once that my fractures are some of the worst he's ever seen.
All in all, I guess if your only other option were, say, a field hospital in a swamp staffed by murderous, heroin-addicted pythons in the Jumanji game, then sure. Go to this clinic. Otherwise please avoid it at all costs.
