Hey there. It’s been a minute. I am way behind in posting, as well as many other things work-related and not work-related.
Six weeks ago, I was working in my home office, taking pictures of items for my Etsy vintage shop (my other business). I bent down to put something in a box on the floor and lost my balance, falling into a box of little teacups and saucers. Don’t ask me how I did that, I wasn’t even walking when I fell. But down I went, my left hand instinctively reaching out to break my fall. All those little teacups survived, but my radius did not. It snapped right in half. Thank goodness the teacups didn’t break, or I may also have slit my wrist in the process.
I am 66 years old and live alone. I was diagnosed with osteoporosis at least ten years ago, and have been terrified of falling ever since. I am so, so careful. But not careful enough, apparently. It finally happened, my first broken bone.
So, after rolling around on the floor screaming for 20 minutes, I finally pulled myself together enough to go upstairs and call 911. My wrist had a huge bump on the thumb side, and my entire hand was skewed in the other direction. There was no way I was going to drive myself to the hospital 20 minutes away, and I don’t have any family close enough to wait for. My neighbors later told me I should have called them, but it was the middle of the afternoon and I assumed everyone was at work.
While waiting for the ambulance, I called my daughter who lives across the country and let her know what was going on. The ambulance arrived while I was talking to her. It only took them about five minutes to get here, which was good.
The EMTs were great, so nice and caring. Funny, too. Or maybe it was the pain meds. One thing I never knew was that EMTs can’t give a patient opioids. So they sat with me for a while, called for the “drug guy,” who was on another call, and once I was calmed down enough from just talking to them, we all went out and got into the ambulance. I was still shaking uncontrollably but was able to walk out on my own. The EMTs didn’t want to drive me to the hospital given the amount of pain I was in – bumpy roads and such. While we were waiting, they got an IV in my good arm and unfortunately cut my favorite hoodie off of me.
It took the drug guy another 20 minutes to show up. He got me taken care of right away with some pain meds, and we were off. The ride seemed to take a long time, but I know it’s only 20 minutes to the hospital.
At the ER, they cut off my remaining T-shirt (brand new, first time I ever wore it – ugh), put me in a huge hospital gown that went down to my ankles, and put my wrist in a splint. I called my brother to let him know I’d need a ride home, and told him to bring me a hoodie as they cut off my shirt and my hoodie. I didn’t have a coat with me, and it was December 28 in Pittsburgh.
I neglected to go into detail about what I needed – i.e., a hoodie that zips down the front so one arm can be in and one out. He brought a pullover. Dude. How the hell do you think my arm is going in there? The man shattered his own wrist 15 or 20 years ago, so you’d think he would have more sense than that. But anyway. I had him throw it over my shoulders and tie it in the front, like some 1990s preppie, and I left that hilarious hospital gown on underneath, and that’s how I went home.
Next day, my mom took me to see the orthopedic surgeon, who informed me that I would need surgery, but since it was the holidays and the surgeon in the group that does my kind of surgery was off, I would have to wait until January 4 to see him. They also took off the splint and put me in a brace. So I spent a full week with a severely broken bone, taking pain meds that made me sick, and eating practically nothing. Toast and gingerale mostly. Not only that, but I was not able to do much of anything, as I could not use my left hand AT ALL. I went on Amazon and bought some more sweat pants and flannel shirts, as I only had a couple of each and that’s all I could manage to put on. Oh, and slip-on shoes too.
An accident like this makes you see how much you take for granted. Try going through your daily life with one hand tied behind your back. You can’t get dressed, put toothpaste on your toothbrush, put your hair in a ponytail, wash the dishes, mop the floor. Eventually, you make it work, but it’s still not good and everything takes four times as long as it normally does.
Finally, January 4 arrived, and my surgery was scheduled for January 6. Went for pre-op testing that day and everything was set.
Well. First, my 87-year-old mom almost got us killed driving me to the hospital, but that’s another story. When we got there, we parked the car and were walking in to the same-day surgery center, when she tripped on the sidewalk and went down. Of course, I couldn’t pick her up with my broken wrist, so I went in and asked the receptionist if she could send someone out to help. Three people came running out with a wheelchair, and they whisked her off to the ER. So there I was, all by myself going in for surgery.
After I got undressed and under the covers, one of the nurses brought me an update on my mom. Her upper right arm was broken. Can this get any worse? I called my poor brother once again, because now we needed TWO rides home in two different directions so he had to bring a friend. After sitting there stewing and starving for three hours, they finally took me back. I didn’t get out of there until 4 p.m. that day, and we were there at 9:30 a.m. My brother took me home, and his best friend took my mom home.
And now it is six weeks post-surgery. I have been making slow progress over the weeks, but still have no range of motion in my left wrist and very little strength. I just got my brace off a couple days ago, which will help, and I start physical therapy this week sometime. I am able to do light housework and I can knit again! My mom thankfully did not need surgery, but she is having a hard time with her arm being in a sling and is understandably cranky and miserable. She was supposed to be helping me while I recovered, and now I’m helping her instead.
One thing I need to do is get to the root of the problem – why did I fall forward in the first place? I know I wasn’t bending over properly – with my legs instead of my back – and I need to work on that and be mindful of what I’m doing. And I know I have a bit of a balance issue, because sometimes if I turn too fast I feel like I’m going to fall. The other day, I was reading the local Senior Times magazine insert in the newspaper and found a FREE Tai Chi for Balance class for seniors at the Rec Center about 30 minutes away. It’s an eight-week course, and I’m really excited about taking that! I’ll also be looking for balance exercise videos on YouTube and Amazon Prime, and of course I will discuss all of this with my PCP when I see her next month.
So I guess the moral of the story is, if you’re over 60, small-boned, have osteoporosis, balance issues, or any of the above, PLEASE be mindful and be careful! Watch where you’re walking, especially if you have pets. One of my cats, Mercury, loves to “herd” me, running in front of me and in between my feet. Either that, or he’s trying to kill me. But I never want to go through any of this again, so I will be extremely careful from now on, probably to the point of being ridiculous. But that’s okay by me.
The Joy of Lipstick 