Entertaining the Emergency Room Staff

Previously posted on StudioVeena.com

So how do you explain a potential broken toe to the ER admitting nurse? While driving from my aborted dance lesson with Estee Zakar I kept going over my story. Last Wednesday was going to be the start of a wonderful week of dance. I had either ballet or pole lessons scheduled for Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday.

It all ended with a loud crack at about 4:45 Wednesday afternoon. Somehow I managed to get my right foot in the wrong place coming out of a spin and kicked the pole. X-Pole 1 - Bob 0. After about five or so minutes of waiting for the pain to subside I knew that I better get my butt to the ER. I prayed that I would be able to drive my five-speed Honda Civic to the hospital before the adrenaline wore off. I was lucky. I made it and I also made a call to my poor suffering wife telling her that I was on my way to the ER and that I probably had a broken toe.

Being an ice hockey player and coach I am all too familiar with the emergency room. I also know that if something smells funny the doc is probably going to know it so I figured the best thing to do was just say, "I kicked a dance pole." The admitting nurse cracked me up when I told her what happened. First she looked at me like I had just walked down the ramp of a spaceship and then she giggled. Then she said, "Really?"
After I limped into a room in the ER the doc showed up for the preliminary exam. Young guy, straight laced, I found out later that he is newbie. Well now he is not so newbie. You meet all kinds of crazy people in the ER. I did not kick the pole so that I could stock up on Oxycontin.

It seemed like it took two or three people to do everything. I was cut on the bottom of my foot and it took one person to clean the wound, one to watch and a third person to look around the corner to see that weird guy. Same story in X-Ray. The guy who took the pictures looked at my foot, the Minnesota Hockey sweatshirt I was wearing and asked, "Ice Hockey?" Sigh. No. Pole Dancing. The surgery scars are from a puck I took in the foot in 1988.

When they brought me back to my room in the ER my wife was there and she had given my insurance information to the admitting nurse and was trying really hard not to laugh. Her Facebook check in, "Ok so I know I shouldn't be laughing at my poor hubby in the ER." Her first comment on the check in was, "I've been here lots of times for hockey but a broken toe from pole dancing? Chuckles." After that, "The nurses in here are busting a gut."

A few minutes later the doc came back and gave me the bad news. Broken toe, buddy tape it, crutches, funny shoe, pain meds, see an orthopedic doctor for follow up as soon as possible. Go Bob. The check out nurse came in to give me final instructions and say that she thought it was really cool that I pole danced.
Just when I thought the coast was clear I grabbed my crutches and started to sit up. My final visitor was the nurse who had earlier escorted my wife to my room. She looked at me, looked at Carol, and said, "Was she serious? You really pole dance?"

Yes, and dance poles do not move when you kick them.