Inconvenience is a problem.
It’s my own damned fault. I probably should NOT have been on the skateboard. But I was bonding with the podling.
In the car (which she had to start and put in gear for me), on the way to the hospital, I remarked to her that the first thing I would be asked when my arm was being examined would be, “You’re nearly 40. What were you doing on a skateboard???”
We arrived at the hospital, I checked in at the emergency desk (which is really more of a double paned window that’s hard to talk through) and waited with the rest of the wretched.
Having finally been called back into triage, podling and I found ourselves in a small exam room with a very efficient, fairly personable, and not unattractive young male triage nurse. He took my vitals. He got date of birth and other pertinent information.
“So what are you in here for…”
“I’ve injured my arm. It’s possible I’ve broken something.”
“How did this happen?”
“Well, I fell backward from a skateboard and broke my fall with my palms. My right arm took the bulk of the force.”
He stopped writing and began to examine the arm, then looked me squarely in the eye and said, “You’re 38 years old. WHAT were you doing on a skateboard???”
I looked over at the podling sitting across the room and smiled smugly, to which she just rolled her eyes and shook her head.
He was kind enough to let us wait in triage for me to have my x-ray and the rest, rather than send me back out into the waiting room with the wretched to wait. It was entertaining, in a morbid, realist sort of way, to watch the little scenes play out as new patients came through. Medical professionals working in that environment almost HAVE to be jaded and have a morbid sense of humor to retain sanity. Drama after drama comes through that door… and in between they take the time to buy a dozen tamales from the guy who brought them in to work… then go right back to dealing with the dripping, ulcerated foot of a diabetic homeless man who refuses to, and maybe hasn’t the capacity to, manage his diabetes and all the problems that arise with it.
The end result is… there were no visible fractures on the x-ray. I was sent home with a sling and admonishments to not doing anything with it that hurts. No shit. The arm hurts like a mother when I move it. I can’t extend my elbow (which is where the pain is). I can sort of write, in small bursts. I can type because that doesn’t require much movement of the elbow, but it hurts quite a bit to do so and takes forever. I can’t contort my arm properly to eat, brush my hair, or do anything else useful with it.
I can deal with the pain. Ibuprofen has been my friend since Thursday. Ice packs for the swelling, and arnica gel and supplements to promote healing. (Don’t know if arnica really works, but the psychological effect is that I feel I’m doing SOMEthing to move this along.)
This is just damned inconvenient. It takes for-bloody-ever to get anything done (including typing this post), and even when I do get things done, they are NOT done to my standards.
This is ridiculous. I hate it. Helpless is NOT good for me right now. I can’t afford to sit around doing very little, or nothing. I MUST remain busy. If I don’t I’m going to lose my mind to the emotional horrors I’ve been trying to conquer. One can only watch so many movies, read so many books.
It doesn’t help that my dad just got out of the hospital after a triple heart bypass. He has mom, but she still can’t drive and can only get around with the use of a walker. I’m the only relative within reasonable driving distance to be of use to them…
Except I’m useless just now.
Thank God they have the ladies of their church to help with bringing in meals and that sort of thing.
Still hurts like a sonofabitch, though not as bad as it did at first. I have slightly more range of motion, but not really. And it looks absolutely WRONG when I hold both arms out to my sides in a T. Totally wrong. Bleh.