She called the new doctor and scheduled an appointment. There were no available appointments until Friday. So I had to wait for 4 days. On Friday we went to see the new doctor. He took more x-rays and told my mother that he was not confident about performing surgery on my leg. He told her he felt he hadn't ever seen a break that bad in person. He cautioned her that I might not be able to walk ever again. He made some phone calls and gave her a phone number. We left and went home. Once again my mom called the next new doctor to make an appointment. Again we had to wait. We could not get into his office until Tuesday the following week. So Tuesday came and I went to see the doctor. He was overwhelmed by my story. He examined me and found that my leg had not begun to heal. He yelled at my mother and questioned her parenting skills. He wouldn't let her defend herself. He cut her off and made her listen while he gave her the 'riot act'. He explained to her that he didn't feel that He could fix it. He told her that there was only one man that he knew of that could perform the surgery I needed. Otherwise, I would be unable to walk for life. The possibility of amputation was a 50/50 chance. He told me to be prepared for the worst.

So once again I went back home with no hope. I was frightened. I kept asking my mom why she did this. Why she let me suffer so long. I couldn't understand her answers. Every Doctor that had examined me told my mom that if she had taken me to the hospital on the day of the accident, I would have had some pins put in my leg and that would have been the worst outcome. But because of her neglect, I might have to lose the leg. The leg was in very bad shape. Every bone below my left knee was broken. No blood was getting into the cells in my bones. The break was extreme. It was a nightmare.

The 18th Day After the Accident

On the 18th day I finally found a doctor that was highly skilled and respected in his field of study. He examined me and would not let my mother take me home. He told her that if he did not perform surgery, I would lose my leg to infection and later death. I had a great amount of bone marrow loss and the marrow was in my blood stream. The two large bones, Fibula and Tibia were broken entirely across the middle and entirely from top to bottom. Roughly speaking my two main bones became eight. All of the Tarsals in my ankle were crushed; all the metatarsals were crushed as well. The Phalanges were sheared all the way through. I could not move my ankle at all. Not even my toes.

I am admitted within one hour at the Children's Hospital of West Los Angeles. I was probed and poked all day. I was asked a million questions like "are you allergic to anything? How old were you when you started your period?" and so on. I was not allowed to eat or drink after 10pm. I was unable to sleep. The fear of amputation kept me from sleeping. My operation was scheduled for 8:00am. I was awakened by a nurse at 6:00am who wanted a sample of my blood. I was very thirsty and asked her for water. The nurse said no. "You can't have any water or food".

7:30am comes and an intern came for me. He told me he had to give me a shot. I asked, "What is the shot was for?" He explained to me, "It will make you relaxed for surgery.” He gave me the shot in my butt, and I started to cry. He patted my head and placed me on a gurney and rolled me to the surgery room. The whole way I cried and my mom was not there. I was so scared; I knew I had a big chance of waking up with only one leg. When I got to the surgery room, there were several nurses and doctors standing around with clip boards. I was becoming very groggy and as I looked up, I saw more doctors at the top of the room which was like a medical arena. I felt like a medical experiment with mad scientists surrounding me. My doctor told me that the surgery was going to be viewed by many doctors. That's why there were so many people in the room and viewing from above.

A mask is placed on my face. The nurse said count to one backwards starting from ten. I count, "Ten, nine, eight, seven ...out cold.” 4 hours later, I wake up in more pain then ever before. I screamed and screamed and kicked my right leg around, thrashing the sheets off. The doctor ordered me to be drugged and the nurse gave me a shot that knocked me out for hours. I do not remember what happened after that shot. I slept in a Como-like state for several days. About 4 or 5 days later I began to come out of my coma-like like sleep. I woke up to the voice of the doctor telling my mom that I was experiencing rejection to the metals in my leg. My mom seemed angry. She and I fought so much that the nurse told her she had to leave. My mom left and did not visit my remaining days until I checked out of the hospital. My so-called father visited me for about 20 minutes. He was under pressure from my family. It was basically a mercy visit. He and I had not had any contact for about one year.

Before I left the hospital my doctor told me that I would never walk again. He said, "It would take a miracle." He did what he could do to save the leg, but it would be a useless part of my body. He also said that there was so much damage done to my leg, he could only perform reconstructive surgery for purposes of medical experimentation. I was the worst case he had ever seen during his career. He felt I had a great chance of amputation still. He described my leg's new parts to me. I was now put together by screws and pins and a large metal plate. "You are like the Bionic Woman, but you will likely not walk. "Just be happy that your leg is still attached to your body." I definitely was not out of the woods yet.

I arrived at my house and two neighborhood boys George and Bobby brought handpicked me flowers and sat with me on my bed. They felt bad for me and it showed as they only looked at the floor when they spoke. They could hardly look me in my eyes. They hand picked me a bouquet of flowers. The flowers were a symbol of hope; a simple gesture of kindness that meant so much to me. I knew my battle was not won yet. I was weak, and needed months of recuperation. My mom told George and Bobby that I needed my rest, and they left.

On the next mourning my father called. He coldly asked for my mom, never asking how I was doing. My mom took the phone and there was a heated discussion. "Blood Test" I heard my mom say. "She's sick now; this is not the time Vince!” When I heard that I yelled out, "You’re a dick Dad!" My mom hung up the phone and told me that Vince wanted a paternity test or he would stop all child support and medical insurance. I cried. I couldn't believe my ears.

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