You're familiar with Veni, Vidi, Vici. I came, I saw, I conquered.
Last week: I woke, I walked, I stumbled, I fell, I broke.
Sometime in the night when I got up for a trip to the bathroom, it became a trip to the floor, or the foot board of the bed, I'm not sure. I remember thinking my wrist hurt but when I got up I shook my hand and thought, nothing broken.
I went back to bed. After a few minutes I realized how much it hurt so I got up, took some ibuprofen and found an icepack. In the morning the first thing I said to Paul was "I broke my arm." He never heard me fall, and he thought I was overreacting.
Which reminds me of the time I fell skiing many, many years ago. As I sat on the slope I said "I broke my collarbone." "How do you know?" "Believe me I know." It was more than fractured, it was shattered but that's another post.
I don't think he believed me about my arm this time either, but I had a feeling. A very painful feeling. Paul went to work, I went to the walk in clinic. They took an ex-ray. The doctor said he didn't see any fractures and sent me away. Thirty minutes later I got a panicked call from the doctor telling me they had a radiologist look at the films who said I had a fracture. Come back immediately. He put a splint on it and told me to call an orthopedic specialist.
My biggest fear was a six-week cast which would have made life very difficult. As in "keep your cast out of the water," which would probably mean no showers. Monday afternoon, after a very painful weekend, I saw the ortho doc. Another set of ex-rays, and he confirmed I had a fracture of the radius.
Three of them separately poked and prodded my arm and wrist and kept asking "does this hurt?" Initially it didn't but when they were done it did, everywhere. When the doctor finally told me he thought I would be okay with the splint, no cast, I nearly kissed him on the lips.
Keep it on all the time but take it off to bathe. Just be careful he said, don't fall on it again. No kidding? I have to go back in two weeks for an ex-ray but in the meantime I'm being careful. It still hurts but it's better.
The week just kept getting better. Monday, after a few weeks of back pain and trips to the chiropractor who finally said he needed an MRI, Paul had to resort to walking with a cane. Of course we couldn't get a regular appointment for the MRI soon enough so on Tuesday I took him to the Emergency Room where an MRI showed a herniated disc between L4 and L5.
I've never seen him in so much pain or take so many heavy-duty drugs to control it. Yesterday he saw an orthopedic surgeon (not the one I saw on Monday) who confirmed the disc problem. Hopefully the recommended treatment will avoid surgery. Time will tell.
Between my big, black brace/splint on my arm and Paul's limp, or cane, we look like the walking wounded. Like I said, I've had better weeks.