Breaking My Leg in Korea Pt. 1
On June 29th, I boarded my plane for South Korea, not knowing the fate that would await me there. I was going to the University of Ulsan for a three-week exchange program through my home university. Buzzing with excitement, I barely slept for the 13-hour flight, practicing what little Korean I knew. Finally, after a lot of turbulence and cans of ginger ale, my plane landed in Busan. I got easily through customs, and I told myself nothing would stop me from having a good time. Well…life doesn’t always go the way you planned.
I had got to the baggage pick-up, looking up and down the aisle for my bright pink luggage. To my dismay, my bag was nowhere to be found. The workers at the airport told me they would call the University if they found it. So, with just the clothes on my back, I ventured to the exit of the airport, catching a bus to Ulsan. After a quick 15-minute bus ride, I got off at the bus stop for Ulsan. So excited to be in Korea, I set off towards the University.
Eventually, I found my way to the University, asking for directions from every person I came across. When I got there, I gave myself a mental pat of the back for learning the word for University in Korean on the plane. I met my roommate and the Korean students and couldn’t be more excited to start the three-week program. I had made new friends the next day at orientation, and I got a glimpse of what the next three-weeks were going to be like. They were going to be so awesome, or I thought. Every day, I was praying that the airport would find my bag. Finally, after wearing the same clothes for three days, my prayers were answered. On July 5th, I was reunited with my bag.
Putting on a fresh pair of clothes, I set out for a fun-filled day, and a fun-filled day it was. I thought that life couldn’t get any better. At the end of the night, my roommate and I ended up locking ourselves up in our dorm room, planning on a much-needed shower and treating ourselves to some sheet masks. I emerged from the showers, feeling fresh and ready for a relaxing night. I sat on my bed, opening my sheet mask, but WAIT…I totally forgot to clean out my ears. Picking up two cotton swabs, I made it back to the bathroom. I tiptoed to the mirror, the tiles being wet and cold from after my shower. With freshly cleaned ears, I stepped out of the bathroom, slipping.
Before I knew it, I was on the ground, an extreme pain in my ankle. The pain felt like stubbing my toe but a hundred times worse. I wasn’t going to panic though, I thought I probably just bruised it. Mind me, I am a larger human being, but there was no way slipping onto my own ankle would cause a lot of damage.
Boy was I wrong.
I couldn’t get myself off the floor because every time I touched my ankle to the ground, I thought it was going to explode. After five minutes of struggling, two of the Korean counselors made it to my room and finally got me to my bed. They told me I’d have to go to the hospital in the morning because there was no way to get me there that late at night. So, with a hopeful heart, and a baseball sized lump on my leg, I fell asleep to my throbbing ankle.
Waking up in the morning was harder than expected. I kept thinking about the terrible dream I had. Wait. If the deep throbbing in my ankle was any indicator, I’d say it wasn’t a dream. I had indeed injured myself and had to go to the hospital. The hospital was closer than I thought, a quick 5-minute drive. After an embarrassing struggle up the steps to the hospital, I settled in my seat while one of the counselors checked me in.
A couple hours later, and multiple tests and x-rays, I was wheeled into the doctor’s office. I had a mantra repeating in my head: it’s just a sprain, it’s just a sprain, it’s just a sprain. The doctor looked to my Korean companion, speaking quickly in Korean. I was hoping that they were good words, like she is super fine and go back to the dorm. The doctor turned to me, slowly turning his screen to me. Wow, there is one messed up ankle on the screen.
“It is broken.”
Those were the three words that would haunt me for the next couple months. They rang in my head. And the x-ray was the definite proof, three large breaks in the bone on the screen. I looked down at my wrapped-up leg, cursing in my head. How could I have sat on my own ankle and broke it? Making a mental note in the back of my head to work out more when returning home, I turned to my Korean companion. He looked at me with a grim face, he was going to have to be the one to tell me what the doctor had told him. Surgery. I’d need surgery on my ankle. My first surgery as a matter of fact. I was given two options, fly home on a floppy, broken ankle, or have surgery in Korea and remain in the hospital for two and a half weeks. What a decision to make on my own, so I decided to ask my mom.
Getting in contact with her was harder than I thought. After trying multiple times, she finally answered the voice-only Skype call. I told her in a soft voice that my ankle was broke, and that was when it hit me. My vacation was over. I began sobbing heavily into the phone. Everyone in the lobby of the hospital had their eyes on me. What was I to do. After many tears and encouraging words from my mom, I had made my decision: I was staying in Korea. I would have the surgery in Korea and spend the rest of my vacation in the hospital. I wasn’t ready to leave Korea yet, I had so much more to experience.
And an experience I would end up having.
Read about the interesting two and a half weeks I spent in a Korean hospital here.
I had got to the baggage pick-up, looking up and down the aisle for my bright pink luggage. To my dismay, my bag was nowhere to be found. The workers at the airport told me they would call the University if they found it. So, with just the clothes on my back, I ventured to the exit of the airport, catching a bus to Ulsan. After a quick 15-minute bus ride, I got off at the bus stop for Ulsan. So excited to be in Korea, I set off towards the University.
Eventually, I found my way to the University, asking for directions from every person I came across. When I got there, I gave myself a mental pat of the back for learning the word for University in Korean on the plane. I met my roommate and the Korean students and couldn’t be more excited to start the three-week program. I had made new friends the next day at orientation, and I got a glimpse of what the next three-weeks were going to be like. They were going to be so awesome, or I thought. Every day, I was praying that the airport would find my bag. Finally, after wearing the same clothes for three days, my prayers were answered. On July 5th, I was reunited with my bag.
Putting on a fresh pair of clothes, I set out for a fun-filled day, and a fun-filled day it was. I thought that life couldn’t get any better. At the end of the night, my roommate and I ended up locking ourselves up in our dorm room, planning on a much-needed shower and treating ourselves to some sheet masks. I emerged from the showers, feeling fresh and ready for a relaxing night. I sat on my bed, opening my sheet mask, but WAIT…I totally forgot to clean out my ears. Picking up two cotton swabs, I made it back to the bathroom. I tiptoed to the mirror, the tiles being wet and cold from after my shower. With freshly cleaned ears, I stepped out of the bathroom, slipping.
Before I knew it, I was on the ground, an extreme pain in my ankle. The pain felt like stubbing my toe but a hundred times worse. I wasn’t going to panic though, I thought I probably just bruised it. Mind me, I am a larger human being, but there was no way slipping onto my own ankle would cause a lot of damage.
Boy was I wrong.
I couldn’t get myself off the floor because every time I touched my ankle to the ground, I thought it was going to explode. After five minutes of struggling, two of the Korean counselors made it to my room and finally got me to my bed. They told me I’d have to go to the hospital in the morning because there was no way to get me there that late at night. So, with a hopeful heart, and a baseball sized lump on my leg, I fell asleep to my throbbing ankle.
Waking up in the morning was harder than expected. I kept thinking about the terrible dream I had. Wait. If the deep throbbing in my ankle was any indicator, I’d say it wasn’t a dream. I had indeed injured myself and had to go to the hospital. The hospital was closer than I thought, a quick 5-minute drive. After an embarrassing struggle up the steps to the hospital, I settled in my seat while one of the counselors checked me in.
A couple hours later, and multiple tests and x-rays, I was wheeled into the doctor’s office. I had a mantra repeating in my head: it’s just a sprain, it’s just a sprain, it’s just a sprain. The doctor looked to my Korean companion, speaking quickly in Korean. I was hoping that they were good words, like she is super fine and go back to the dorm. The doctor turned to me, slowly turning his screen to me. Wow, there is one messed up ankle on the screen.
“It is broken.”
Those were the three words that would haunt me for the next couple months. They rang in my head. And the x-ray was the definite proof, three large breaks in the bone on the screen. I looked down at my wrapped-up leg, cursing in my head. How could I have sat on my own ankle and broke it? Making a mental note in the back of my head to work out more when returning home, I turned to my Korean companion. He looked at me with a grim face, he was going to have to be the one to tell me what the doctor had told him. Surgery. I’d need surgery on my ankle. My first surgery as a matter of fact. I was given two options, fly home on a floppy, broken ankle, or have surgery in Korea and remain in the hospital for two and a half weeks. What a decision to make on my own, so I decided to ask my mom.
Getting in contact with her was harder than I thought. After trying multiple times, she finally answered the voice-only Skype call. I told her in a soft voice that my ankle was broke, and that was when it hit me. My vacation was over. I began sobbing heavily into the phone. Everyone in the lobby of the hospital had their eyes on me. What was I to do. After many tears and encouraging words from my mom, I had made my decision: I was staying in Korea. I would have the surgery in Korea and spend the rest of my vacation in the hospital. I wasn’t ready to leave Korea yet, I had so much more to experience.
And an experience I would end up having.
Read about the interesting two and a half weeks I spent in a Korean hospital here.
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