Paul Lorenzo Swensen (1921-2004)
Life History
Accidents and Operations
September 25, 1973
This was a fateful day that changed the lives of the entire family. It was Shirley's birthday and also was the day Farnes and Beverly Berntsen were to leave for Peru, to meet Mark at the end of his mission.
As was usual, I drove Shirley to school, in the green Volkswagen. She had a friend with her and because of the crowded conditions in the front seat, I didn't fasten my seat belt--which I usually did. After dropping of Shirley at Skyline, I proceeded to work on I-80 and then on to I-15. I was driving on the second lane in, from the left and at about 9th south saw a stalled car in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and came to a stop, with just a slight bump on the stopped car. Just as I heaved a sigh of relief at getting stopped, everything went crazy, with a big crash, spinning, another crash and I found myself against the inside guard rail, facing South. Whether I lost consciousness or not, I do not know. Information gathered later told the story of what had happened. Just as I got stopped behind the stalled car, a young man in a mustang, switched lanes and crashed right into the back of me--going at full speed. That impact propelled me into the left lane where I was hit broad-side by a pick-up truck, driven by my friend Martin Brown. He, of course, could do nothing.
My next recollection was that something had happened and I was sitting in the passenger seat. Someone came to the window and he said that he was the one who had hit me. My next recollection was that my left leg felt funny, like something was pushing up on my foot. I slowly passed my right toe under the left foot and I felt nothing. At that point I knew I had a broken leg. In a short time--how long I don't know--an ambulance arrived. The attendants determined that they would apply a Thompson splint to my leg. I told them that I would not allow it but that they should bind the left leg to the right one and transport me that way--which they did. When we arrived at LDS hospital, I requested that they call Dr. Tobler, who happened to be in the hospital at that time.
The attendants started to slit my trousers but I assured them that they could remove them without cutting them. The left leg had started to swell and was quite large. After being examined, it was decided that they would wait until the next day for surgery, since I had just eaten breakfast. I'm sure they sedated me because I don't remember much of what happened for the rest of that day. X-rays did indicate that four pieces of bone had been broken out of my left femur.
On September 26, 1973, Dr. Tobler operated on the left leg. During the operation, a muscle apparently ruptured, spraying blood all over the place. They put the leg back together and fastened things together with a metal plate and a lot of screws. It was decided that they would not put the leg in a cast but use a special splint instead.
The hospital stay was a long-term situation with lots of interesting happenings. To begin the whole thing, most of my body functions just stopped. I was breathing O.K. and the heart was pumping but my digestive parts were not working and that was of some concern to the doctors. Dr. Tobler invited Dr. Duane Schmidt to assist with the breathing and I was grateful for that. About every two or three hours they brought in a breathing machine that blows up the lungs and then lets them exhale. It was a very painful experience and I had hardly recovered from one treatment when I could hear the cart lumbering down the hall for the next treatment.
I was in a four-bed ward and that turned out to be a blessing--lots of company during the recovery process. The service was excellent and the nurses were wonderful--especially Sandie Drechsel. The first week is essentially lost-time and I remember little of what happened but after that, there was little pain and it was just a matter of hoping that things would heal.
After a rather long stay, I was let out for a fitting for a leg brace. It was something new they wanted to try and it seemed that things were going to be quite good. I couldn't do much walking but I could exercise my knee and that was supposed to keep it from getting stiff.
The sequence of events is a bit hazy now but a few important things happened, which resulted in a very long recovery period. It seems that during the first operation, infection entered the wound area and caused infection in the broken-out parts. When that was discovered, it was necessary to open things up, remove the four pieces of loose bone and try for a bone graft. They let the two pieces of the femur overlap a bit and they then packed in crushed bone, hopefully to start the healing process. To immobilize the leg, they put me in a full spika cast. It was solid plaster from my arm pits, all the way down the left leg and down to the knee on the right leg. A cross brace went from the left foot to the right knee. When I saw that, I would have been happy for just a plain pine box. Later, they changed the cast and left the right leg free. A person must experience such a cast to fully realize how terrible they can be. I did, however manage to live with it and even went to work.
Things seemed to be going well and they let me out of the hospital and said I could start putting some weight on the leg. One day, while standing by the tricky bars, I stepped into a small depression and I felt the leg break apart. Then it was back to the hospital for another operation. This time they pulled the leg so the two parts of the femur were together, they packed in more crushed bone and then screwed on a Jewett Nail, which is a device that goes into the ball joint and extends down the leg. Once again it was back to a full body cast. Counting each cutting into the body as a separate operation, all told there were eight operations, including two to take bone from my hip for the grafting. This last operation finally did heal but the left leg is about 1 1/2" shorter than the right.
Recovery after the last operation was slow but it did turn out to be O.K. I walked with crutches for quite a long time and then it was with a cane. Fortunately, my employment was such that I could function in that condition. Also being Bishop was possible--having wonderfull counselors who carried much of the burden. Members of the ward were also very kind and it was quite a good experience, in many ways.
There is a different feeling during an interview when the bishop is all banged up, in a cast and interviewing in a hospital room. Some of my best interviews were held in the "quiet" room on the second floor-West wing of the LDS hospital.