The Car Accident That Triggered My RSD/CRPS

Saturday was hectic where I worked, in a small office where two sales agents took turns answering the phones and showing properties. Most of this particular day in November was spent with me on the phone fielding property management calls for another Realtor who was out of town. Dealing with leaky faucets, backed up sewers and contractors who didn't want to work on Saturday didn't pay my bills! I was resentful and could not wait for the work day to be over so that I could join my husband. We had planned to attend the Cattleman's Association meeting that evening instead of the Realtor's Banquet. Our reasoning was that we would have more chances to sell real estate and fences or small barns (which was my husband's business) at the Cattleman's meeting.

After being verbally abused by renters and vendors the whole day, I locked the front door of the office building. I told my co-worker that I had a terrible day and was glad it was over. Getting in the car, heading west toward my home, I relaxed enough to realize how tired I felt. My husband had called earlier, and we agreed to meet at the local convenience store for a coffee break before going home to change clothes. As I neared the store, going only about 20 miles per hour, I glanced at the parking lot, scanning for my husband's truck. I didn't see it, and thought very quickly that I might just go home, skipping the coffee. Then, with a second thought, I made a left turn that would change my life forever.


  

Who Me? With RSD?

After my car accident in 1995, I knew that the blue discoloration in my foot and the exaggerated swelling, prolonged and intense pain in my foot and ankle was indicative of the same disorder that had caused a nightmare situation with my daughter when she was only nine years old. I didn't want to admit that I could  have Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy. I just wouldn't talk about it, and it would not be true.

There was a bigger problem going on in my household. The car insurance company had found me at fault for the accident. I had, after all, told the police officer, that I was sorry while laying in a semi-conscious state after the accident, thereby admitting fault. The driver of the other car, whom I was told wreaked of alcohol, had passed a field sobriety test administered at the hospital an hour after the accident. No blood was drawn. His wife suffered internal injuries due to wearing her seat belt incorrectly. My husband assumed it was my fault. After all, I had turned to the left across traffic. We were being sued.- by a drunk driver. I was in so much pain I could not fight what I suspected was an incorrect assumption about the accident. I lay in the bed, day after day, in so much pain I could not concentrate enough to read a book.

After the cast was taken off, the terrible pain continued no matter what I did. I could not tolerate standing in one place for long at a time due to the pain and swelling. So, I sat as much as possible. I propped my foot up on a chair in front of me in order to reduce the swelling. Driving was a real problem for me because it was my right foot that had been almost severed in the car wreck.

After two months at home, I had to find some type of employment. I became a substitute teacher at the local schools. I worked as a night cashier for a local auctioneer. Finally, I went back to work as a Realtor, leaning on my cane. My foot was still turning blue and swelling. I tried to ignore it. I didn't have time for it to be what I knew...RSD!

More Bumps in the Road To "Recovery from RSD"

While I slowly began to build up my client list again in the real estate world and return to some semblance of normalcy in my family life, I continued to deal with incredible pain in my right foot and ankle caused by my car accident. I had accepted that the insurance company had found me at fault, even though I had a nagging feeling that there was something wrong with that assumption. I wanted to put the accident behind me and get on with my life. The surgeon had told us that the injury to my ankle was "bad" so I ignored the fact that the pain continued to be worse than my doctors said it should be at that point.

Then, I got a phone call. It was from the sister of the gentleman (should I call him that?) that had been in the accident with me. It had been just less than two years since it had happened. I had one of the Charlie Brown moments while she talked to me. You know the one where the adults talk and they sound like, "Wah, wah, wah, wah,wah,?"  I had to ask her to repeat what she had said. My legs got weak as I heard her tell me that her brother was bragging about "ripping that woman off" from the car accident. I had to sit down. I began to cry softly as she said that he told her he had been able to buy a new house even though he was drunk when he hit my car. He had lied to the policemen about trying to avoid the accident. He told her he didn't even see my car. He was too drunk.

Let me back up for a minute. There were people that actually witnessed the accident that day in the fall of 1995. I heard comments from them like, "I just thought you couldn't see his car because of the truck in front of you blocking your view. You were on that curve, you know." What? I had to admit, I went back to the scene of the accident, exactly where it occurred, envisioned a large truck being in front of me, and could see how it would totally block my vision. The turn into the store parking lot was right in that curve. There were those that thought it was the sun in my eyes, like the police officer that talked to my husband about the accident.

Now, I was being told by this man's sister that he had lied to the police about his part in the accident, had indeed been intoxicated, and had caused financial ruin to me while gaining a new home. His wife's injuries were caused by her wearing her seat belt incorrectly. That was not my fault, but I was blamed for that, also. I had no one to advocate for me. No one had called an attorney to represent me. I had apologized to the policeman, after all.

His sister told me that she could not keep quiet. Her conscience was hurting. She had checked with a paralegal friend that told her I had two years to file a lawsuit against her brother. It took a lot of courage to make this phone call to me. I thanked her and hung up. I put my head on my arms, sitting at the kitchen table and sobbed. My husband had been listening to my side of the conversation, which didn't contain many words. Now, he wanted to know what the phone call was about. I told him, and he just looked at me, wide-eyed, speechless.

My grief rapidly became anger. Strangely, I wasn't angry at the drunk driver. After all, he got away with it. Why shouldn't he? I was angry at the policeman that didn't require blood to be drawn or a breathalizer test at the scene of the accident. He chose to wait so long after the accident when we had arrived at the hospital, and gave him a "field test". I was angry at my husband for not fighting for me. I was angry because I knew I had RSD due to this car wreck and that my life would never be the same.

I made a decision right then and there. I would not pursue any lawsuit. It would be a grueling ordeal. Who knows how long it would take? There were still too many unknowns about the whole situation. Would this sister even testify in court? Probably not. No. I was going to put it behind me and move ahead as I had decided before the phone call. I was going to overcome the pain, without ever mentioning RSD to my family, listing real estate for sellers, as I had before the wreck, making money to support my family. I was strong, and I was going to overcome any obstacles put before me, as I always had.

To be continued...

Facing Blunt Reality of Having RSD

I made the appointment, grudgingly, to see a Pain Management Specialist that was only 30 miles from my home. I was driving my son to Dallas, which was 80 miles away, but that was typical of me. I would always do more and go to further lengths for my kids than for myself.  My youngest daughter accompanied me, along with my husband. The doctor pronounced that I had "causalgia", an old, rather outdated term for RSD, type II, meaning I had RSD with a nerve injury. He wanted to start by giving me a steroid injection in my ankle to try to help with the scar tissue. After he did so, I told him firmly that he would never do that again without sedating me first! He agreed to that. It's a good thing because I admit I had some slightly violent thoughts about him while he administered the shots. Pain will do that to me.

The shots did relieve some of my pain, and I did not take the hydrocodone that he prescribed. I went about my business of walking the tightrope working mothers always walk. Only my tightrope was a little longer than some because I had a child with RSD going through the usual rituals that they go through at school, with doctors...but that was another story. This happens to be about me and my RSD.

   When I turned to the hectic life of being a Realtor, listing properties for sellers, searching for the right home for buyers, I thought that my cane and limp might work to my advantage. In my fantasy world, folks would sympathize with me, seeing what I had to overcome, just to go to work every day. My fantasy world came to an abrupt halt on the day I was showing homes to a couple, and I failed to see a step down to the driveway. I landed on my right foot, hard, and felt searing, excruciating pain that felt like it travelled straight up the bone in my calf. I let out a small yelping sound, and talked myself out of fainting. The couple never seemed to notice what had happened, continuing to question me about the house. Little did they know how difficult it was for my to press the gas pedal and brake as I drove them from house to house that day...and for many more.