after the morning, which was emotionally exhausting and frankly a new recent low point, I went into the shop to bake and wash dishes, and within minutes I was lying on the floor wondering what the fuck just happened.
I skidded on a piece of plastic on the floor, collided with the pizza oven, and then the sweet sweet floor rose up to meet me. I never hit my head or lost consciousness, so I was able to immediately diagnose that I’d dislocated my right shoulder. I got up from the floor walking like a zombie and shot through with pain, called Jeff, and he couldn’t come get me because he was having mobility issues of his own. I called 911 and waited. And waited. And waited. I was coping with levels of pain and disorientation that are right up there with giving birth unattended. I couldn’t control my breathing and I was sweating so hard I couldn’t see.
The boys from #2 firehouse came and attempted to administer oxygen, and tried to put my arm in a sling but I was screaming and crying a little too enthusiastically for that. The firemen were very kind. I did a lot of moaning and crying waiting for the ambulance. After a very very long wait for the ambulance (yesterday was a record day for the Emerg because of a lot of MVA’s roof falls tree falls and other crush injuries (the announcements for cleanup help in emerg got squawkier and squawkier while I was in MTU)) I finally dipped my beak in some blessed, blessed nitrous, which doesn’t kill pain as much as it prevents you from screaming about it.
After the eternity of a twenty minute ambo ride I was shoved against the wall in triage and Dr. Lim came within 5 minutes and said, “I don’t think it’s dislocated.” And I said, then why does it hurt like a mofo and I’m walking like a zombie??? He checked again and faster than it takes to describe it, the ball went back in the socket.
Then many hours of waiting for xrays and results, and then I was released with a referral to a bone doc, 6 T3s, movement instructions and a sling, since it turns out the shoulder is broken as well as formerly dislocated. Right shoulder OF COURSE.
I slept about as well as could be expected and am now attempting to come to terms with what is going to be a longish and interesting recovery. The shop will have to be sold, I can’t do nothing for 6 weeks or however long this takes. I’ll know more on the 26th when I see the bone doc. I did advise that I have extensive numbness down that arm and that my two outside fingers are very tingly and weak; whether this presages really bad news for that nerve or is just my response to swelling who knows; Jeff advised me to be optimistic but not to lighten up about knowing what’s going on which I think is fine advice.
I am very glad I don’t live alone. I am super grateful to my church family, who have been souls of kindness. I am grateful I sleep on the bottom of a bunkbed as I can use the slats above to haul myself into and out of bed. I am grateful I was sent home with painkillers. I can get by without because oddly enough it doesn’t hurt unless I move it. I can type; I can’t drive, lift with both hands, play an instrument, wash dishes, pick up a phone, raise my hand higher than my breastbone or extend it outwards, and I almost wish somebody had filmed me getting into and out of my clothing today because it was undoubtedly quite comical. I did force myself to bathe and brush my teeth this morning as I do not want to get into the moldy and uncared for stage of recovery, it’s not like I’m helpless, just as slow as a tortoise and about as graceful.
I am very proud I got up after that fall and dealt with it. I didn’t maintain my dignity or composure but I took care of myself and I didn’t try to fix it myself and let the experts do their thing. Above all I’m grateful to be living somewhere where sirens mean that one of my fellow citizens has asked for help, and it’s coming, because there are a lot of places on this earth where I would have been lucky to get any care at all, let alone some painkillers. Today is a day to practice gratitude… even if yesterday WAS a sh#tshow.
