Brent Kearney

Banff Mineral Springs Hospital

Luckily the emergency room at the Banff Mineral Springs Hospital wasn’t busy when I walked in, and within a few minutes, a doctor was examining the wound in my leg. He seemed like a nice guy. He was a doctor from Calgary, filling in for someone who was on vacation. He injected some local anesthetic, and proceeded to clean the wound. I couldn’t see what he was doing — he insisted that I lay down, and there was a paper barrier at my waist level to block my view of the procedure. It felt like he was jabbing some cold metal instrument deep into my leg, and I told him about how my hamstrings were feeling really weird, and what he was doing made it feel even weirder. His reply was,

You just poked the largest muscle in your body with a pointy stick. It didn’t like that too much.

OK, I said. As long as you get everything out.

Although at the time I didn’t know that it was ironic, he told me a story of another patient who came into the hospital and had a piece of wood stuck in the muscles of his ass, which had been festering in there for six months. How could he not know? I asked. I don’t know, he replied, it was abscessed and draining the whole time…

He told me that, short of dissecting my leg, the wound was as clean as he could make it. He sutured the puncture with 3 stitches, and told me to keep an eye on it for signs of infection: redness and swelling.

It already looked kind of red and swollen to me, but he said it would get worse if it gets infected, and sent me home. My leg was still feeling cramped, and my whole inner thigh was getting rather painful, as I limped out of the emergency room.

My neighbours, the dog owners, were sitting in the waiting room. Mom, Dad, and two daughters, all looking concerned. It was an awkward moment. I really didn’t feel like talking to them, although I did appreciate the gesture. There was one question burning in my mind, however: I asked the girl who had been holding the leash why she didn’t pull in the dog when it ran at me.

Her answer was that the dog doesn’t get along with people. Neither do I — especially you, I thought. I was full of anger and wanted to go home. They said that they would like to help with my expenses, and apologized profusely. We exchanged numbers, and I limped back to my Jeep and drove home. I discovered how difficult Jeeps are to climb into with mobility issues…

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