The Voice - a Publication of the Athabasca University Students' Union


A Publication for the
students of Athabasca University

The Voice is brought to you by AUSU

This Week:
Volume 25 Issue 40 - 2017-10-13

Table of Contents Archives Online PDF Archives About The Voice
Features Articles Columns News Letters

From Where I Sit
Shit Happens

Hazel Anaka
Volume 25 Issue 40 2017-10-13

Last Tuesday morning I left my house to head into Edmonton for a day of errands. I never made it. A skiff of snow covered an icy patch on our sidewalk, and in a nanosecond I was lying on the ground stunned.

In trying to understand how badly I was hurt, or if Iíd be able to get up and back into the house, I didnít even cry. I did think this is how people die; falling down and not being discovered for days. Falling down outside in winter has the added threat of death by hypothermia.

Roy was at an Edmonton conference. Iím always carrying something, and that morning was no exception. I could have gotten my cell phone out and called someone. I didnít. I was able to get up. The pain in my left knee and ankle was unreal. And Iím no stranger to pain. I had to gimp about twenty-five feet to the house, climb up a couple of steps outside, and more inside. Then, I had to struggle down and back up a flight of stairs to get the ice packs from the basement freezer. I elevated my leg, iced the sore areas, and texted Roy and Hilary.

Because the pain was so intense I called Healthlink. When I mentioned I am osteopenic (the stage before osteoporosis) she suggested a visit to an emergency department. Roy left the conference to pick me up. He also tried to get me to use crutches. Either I donít have the upper body strength or was just plain stunned, but I couldnít make them work. At the hospital, I used a wheelchair.

Unlike Greyís Anatomy, you can be in a hospital for hours and see virtually no sign of activity. Yeah, yeah, I understand triage. Eventually I was x-rayed (and wasnít that funótwisting, turning, holding still). No broken bones, doc says. Why the hell does it hurt so hard, I say. Soft tissue injury.

Seven and a half hours later, Iím home with two different pain meds using an office chair as my wheelchair. The Fred Flintstone style of propulsion hurt but it was all I had until my sister brought me a walker on Wednesday afternoon. I come to understand the problems of accessibility. I call the pharmacy for info. Why two pain meds? Do I take them together or stagger the doses? (Doesnít matter.) Is the narcotic one contraindicated because of my sleep apnea? (Did you have shallow breathing or difficulty waking up? No. Then itís okay.) A few days in, I find that one nauseates me. Lie down for an hour or two with minimal head movement is the advice.

So, instead of being at the Banff Centre for the Arts doing the Writerís Guild of Alberta ten-day retreat, I was praying there was a waitlist so I could get a refund. Instead of meeting with writer-in-residence, Kimmy Beach, to discuss a book project, I am in pain, in pyjamas, wondering what the hell is next. In the meantime, I (try to) count my blessings, see the bigger meaning, read, and wonder why shit happens, from where I sit.

Hazel Anakaís first novel is Lucky Dog. Visit her website for more information or follow her on Twitter @anakawrites.


To comment on this article, email


Columns This Week:

Fly on the Wall
How Will we Remember Us? -- Jason Sullivan

The Not-So Starving Student
Five Curries from Around the World -- Xin Xu

In Conversation
..with King of Nowhere -- Wanda Waterman

The Fit Student
A Well-Dressed Asparagus -- Marie Well

The Creative Spark
Fooled by Art -- Marie Well

Dear Barb
Very Superstitious, Writings on the Wall -- Barb Godin

Search The Voice:

Receive weekly notices when The Voice is updated.

Go here if you no longer wish to receive our email notifications.