A Broken Bone - Again
Has anyone noticed that I am wearing a cast and have crutches on my logo? Nothing ever changes.
Has anybody noticed that I have my arm in a cast and am walking with a cane on my logo?
Casts and crutches have been my constant companion since the age of four.
My most recent stint was from July to September, until two weeks ago.
That is when I broke my ankle. This time I have both a cast and crutches, for the next SIX weeks. Hardly R and R. This veteran did not sign up for another tour. I was drafted.
Please indulge my pity party. I promise I will wallow in self-pity only a few more days before I pick myself up by the foam of my crutches and complete my tour as best as I can. However, don’t you think I’ve earned the right to b”*!ch a little? I have been fighting this broken bone battle long enough. Honestly how many kids move their blow up pool to their slide to be able to do belly busters? Pretty smart for a four-year-old don’t you think? Unfortunately not smart enough or I would not have built my water park on top of a slab of concrete with iron handles. I broke five ribs.
I fell out of a tree and broke my wrist, broke it again jumping bicycle ramps; my bike and I landed in different places. I broke my elbow roller skating, collarbone as the neighborhood boys tried to see how far they could throw me, my nose playing football, my ankle falling over a dog backward. Ok kids will be kids and accidents naturally do happen. How often did I hear, “kids grow out of it”- not me? I’ve grown up and so have my injuries. My first month in Switzerland I closed the door to the cellar over my toes – and broke all of them, I went jogging and got hit by a golf ball and smashed the tendons in my hands. I went skiing and broke both wrists – at the same time. I think you get the idea.
I think I could handle being confined to my bed if it were not in the middle of a building site. Water damage left the hardwood floors in our downstairs looking like waves, the walls like they have leprosy. I should be grateful; they removed the three massive machines to suck out the water after three noisy weeks. Now it’s time to fill in the 10 or 15 holes caused by the spider-like pipes throughout the room. Above my head, the granite is being removed to tar the culprit, while the roof is getting a facelift. Does any of this sound conducive to recovering?
The jammed up “woe is me” currents have broken the damn, and flooded the page. One of my favorite books was written by Sean Stephenson, “Get off your “But.” Sean was born with “brittle bone disease.” He indeed broke more bones than I can imagine. Sean wasn’t able to play with the other kids, and one day he was feeling sorry for himself. His mother told him he had every right to be upset. However, then she said something that impacted the way he viewed life, “Sean I will give you 15 minutes to dwell in self-pity and then you can decide what you are going to do about it.”
What am I going to do? I will finish my book, even if every 10 minutes someone sanding, hammering, or making a racket calls out, “Frau Gabathuler can you come here?” I will grab my crutches that have fallen on the floor, get up, and make my way –slowly and not very inevitably to my next mission. However, please dear Lord, without crutches – they hurt like the devil.
Vicki