Saturday, May 3, 2014

Fractured-Smactured Still Felt BROKEN


Have you ever broken a rib?  I know a few people who have never broken ANY bone, but all of mine tended to consist only my toes.  Now, those are bad enough to break; they hurt like hell and you can't do anything for them anyway.  If it is the big toe you can cut out a piece of your slipper (and no, the thought of wearing flip-flops is terrifying!) or wear a bigger shoe for the other toes along with the requisite amounts of aspirin or tylenol.  Usually when I would break a toe--have had three and one of them twice--it was because I was running; running away from something or running into something.  My first broken toe occurred when I was about 16 and hurriedly ran into our teeny, tiny bathroom when I learned it was a good idea to open the door first and THEN enter rather than to try and do both simultaneously, which produced copious amounts of "GAAAAHHH!!!AHHHHHWHOOOO!!!" all the while dancing on the un-injured foot while holding the injured foot in a flamingo-style hold. (Yeah yeah, run-on sentence but who cares, look where it got Hemmingway.)

The second time I broke a toe I was close to 35 and we were living in an old, farm-style house with a covered front porch and swing-out screen door.  For some reason I was running out that slamming-screen-front door when my right foot encountered the sturdy and un-moveable foot of an old wooden-framed, bright blue leather couch (you know, the kind with wooden wagon wheels on the side for looks) on the front porch.  
Once again I purged the pain with"GAAAAAHHHHAHOOOOYARRRGGHHH!!!!" and again performed the pink flamingo dance with hot tears streaming down my face. It was the same toe previously broken...

The other two toes were broken along the same lines and not quite as memorable as the first one but still as painful all the while.  Until...and now we're 59 years old, in the PRIME of life, you know? I've become a little slower, a little more careful about a few things.  But it doesn't matter how old you are or how careful you are when your foe is ice and snow.  They will get you.  Laying there all pretty and silent, glistening in the early morning sunlight, so sparkly and innocent.

I had just driven into the parking lot at work, it was February 19th, 2014.  I had an early shift that day.  It was 7:30 a.m. and I still had a good half hour until clocking on so I took my time getting out of the car, leaning inside to get my lunchbag and purse.  All good so far as I hooked one bag on my left shoulder and one bag on my right shoulder, closed the car door and proceeded on the snow-blanketed asphalt.  Three feet in front of the car my right foot went out from underneath me and I landed with a wrestlers' slam dunk on my right side.  I couldn't breathe.  It knocked the wind out of me and when you try to breathe nothing happens, it's a little scary.  I put my head back down and laid there for a few moments, trying to relax.  My breath finally came back and I pulled my splayed legs back in a together position, arms were still splayed out and contents of the purse were scattered.  But hey, the lunchbag on my right side was still secure! 

Things felt...different, thick, is the best way to describe it.  I was able to recover and get up and felt a little stiff.  I remember thinking, "Okay, don't feel any sharp pain, I don't hear clicking so I must be okay and if I keep moving I'll work out the kinks."  I proceeded into work, clocked on at 8:00 a.m. and mentioned the fall to a few people. By 8:30 things were getting a little tight, I had already shoveled 400 pounds of ice into the fish bin and washed the dishes AND the huge ice bin, rolled it back into the cooler. In short, I finally was able to go home by 11:00 a.m. 

Long story short: I went to the E.R. and had an x-ray taken, the doctor told me I had fractured two ribs (number 6 and 7) and that I was NOT going to work for at least a week, she handed me some Workmans' Comp papers and sent me home with "We don't wrap people anymore, just take it easy and rest, don't lift or push and call your physician in the morning". 

So began the next few weeks of recovery, to which I thought, "This trumps a toe any day, even twice".  You can hardly breathe, you don't DARE cough--which splits the ribs in an excruciating way, can't sneeze, etc., etc.  Well, if you have to cough because you have allergies that make you do this, you quickly devise a way to do it that causes the least amount of pain.  And you learn to eat, rest and sleep in an upright position for a few weeks.  The urge to lay down is as powerful as wanting a candy bar/smoke/drink/whatever.  Pain medications vary from one person to another and the first ones they gave me just made me sick, the second prescription took the edge off the pain but I wasn't fuzzy headed--hmm, may have just found the cure for my usually fuzzy headed thinkin'.

I end this tale with the hopes that I will NEVER break another rib and I am so terribly cautious about tripping and falling now.  I carry a pair of ice grippers in the emergency box in the trunk of my car.  I like to see stars but I don't want to see them that way again!

Spring! Yay! Finally!

SPRING...

....back into normal.  Spring is great for the renewal of heart and soul.  And having something to write about!  Last February I was taken out of the writing equation for awhile due to the fact that on my way to work,  I slipped and fell, fracturing two ribs on the right side (numbers 6 and 7 for you purists). Fractured-smactured, felt like they were BROKEN and recovery still took 6 weeks.  They still let me know they are there once in awhile.

ANYWAY...

It will be Mother's Day soon, I work in a grocery store and am constantly reminded of the coming holidays, mostly MONTHS in advance, so that by the time it gets here, I have forgotten the actual DAY.  I am already planning on getting my cards tomorrow when I go to work, coming home and signing them and mailing them dutifully on Monday.  Or Tuesday.  They'll still get there in time.

THE POINT...

I was reading a facebook thread today that just made me giggle and I will post the conversation forthwith.  Names have been changed to protect the slothful.  Or innocent.  Or parent.
(This begins with the parent of a set of young lady daughters, having to do with their responsibilities of calling on an important day/whatever that may be...)



Okay Girls...
Hubby says there is a phone.... he is not on facebook... and he was expecting you both to of given us a call on our day... yep ....LOL

Reader: Uh oh..Momma's angry!

Daughter: You were doing you! We wanted to let you two be together without inturruption. You know we love you Pops!

Me: Good recovery, Daughter . I like Mom's note about Pops having a phone. I find these days that young people don't like TALKING but they can text up a storm. It does seem to be a symptom of the younger generation...oh what can one do?

Daughter: That's funny. I call often. It's not a recovery when I know the time is precious and needed. Thanks for the retort though.

Me: Anytime, that's what other mothers are for. And my dear, you are an angel indeed! She didn't say THAT PART, lol! Remember, we're talking a mothers' point of view, which will always be slanted more towards "You never call..."

I am a mother. I'm sure I'll know. 
 
Daughter: And I'm speaking from the daughters of my mother. Mum, don't think we haven't been checking your posts and seeing how happy you are. Love you and hope you enjoyed the time with Pops.

Me: Lol! Oh..yes, you will! I have been trying to tell my daughter lately about that other issue, The Guilt Trip. It comes with the territory..
 
 
MORAL : There is no moral to this story, it was just a topic that I thought was "normal".