March 6, 2007

•  Dear Friends,
  Thank you all so very much for praying for Erika. We don't have any news yet...she had the CT scan today and won't hear any results for 3 days or so.
  Meanwhile, on a lighter note, Ill post Monday's column for you about my recent catastrophe.

  Y'all may have to read this column slowly, because I sure am typing it slowly, using the right-hand-only method.
  My
  left hand is currently velcroed in place over my middle, closed into
  something called an "immobilizer" the doctor gave me yesterday morning.
  Yup, I'm afraid it's broke. Well, cracked...the difference apparently
  being that a "crack" in an armbone doesn't demand a cast.
  To go with
  my stylish waist-cincher of elastic to which my arm is anchored, I also
  have a black-and-blue goatee of bruises and cuts on my chin, and a few
  other minor random scuffs and scratches. I look like the loser in a
  barroom brawl.
  I wish I could tell you  I did it skydiving or
  mountain climbing, or that I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu
  Manchu, but I'd be lying.
  I grabbed Darnit Kitty by the tail when he
  darted out the front door at noon on Friday, trying to get him safely
  in the house before I went back to work. We were at the edge of the
  front porch, and I grabbed his tail and leaned over to reel him back in
  — and the next thing I knew, I had a faceful of the concrete sidewalk
  four steps below.  I was hurting all over, and all I remember thinking
  dazedly was, "Oh, no! Oh, no!"
  When I took my hands away from my
  face, they were dripping blood, so I figured I had probably broken my
  nose. My next thought was, "I hope nobody sees me sitting here on the
  sidewalk all bloody and covered in dirt!"
  I halfway crawled back up
  the front steps, using my hands to help, and got myself inside to the
  bathroom mirror, where I realized the blood was all coming from a
  couple of cuts on my dirty chin. I spit the dirt out of my mouth,
  pressed a wet cloth against my chin and called Dwain to tell him I
  didn't think I could make it for our 1 p.m. shift at the Business Expo.
  He said to call him if there was anything he could do.
  By this point
  I was kind of shaky, and because of the amount of blood pouring from my
  face, figured I probably needed a stitch or two. I tried to reach my
  son Jamie, but he was in class at NorthArk and didn't answer. Then I
  just gave in to being a baby and called my husband, who was at work in
  Carroll County, because he's my rock and my security blanket and I just
  wanted him. He jumped in his truck and came right home to see about his
  injured wife.
  Our original idea was to go to a doctor, but we called
  two who turned out to be out on Friday afternoon, and the third's
  receptionist said, "We have a three-hour wait, and if you don't already
  have the flu, I wouldn't advise you to come in here. "
  We didn't
  feel my face warranted an ER visit, so Doyle ran downtown to Sam
  Alexander's pharmacy, where Sam kindly advised him about closing up
  cuts with steri-strips, and my pre-med major husband hydrogen
  peroxided, antibiotic-creamed, and patched up my chin.
  By that night
  I was noticing my left elbow hurt pretty good, especially if I bent it
  sharply or tried a twisting motion, like turning a doorknob. I used a
  package of frozen butterbeans for an icepak, took some aspirin, and
  figured I'd be better the next day.
  By Saturday night, it was really
  swollen, more bruised, and hurting like crazy. Sunday morning, we
  decided to try the local drop-in medical clinic. There, a nice lady
  named Sue x-rayed it, and Dr. Lee decided it was cracked, prescribed
  the "immobilizer," patted me on the shoulder kindly, and told me to
  come back in a week or so.
  So as I write this on Sunday night, with
  half of my hands strapped to my tummy, typing with five fingers, and
  wondering how I'm going to get ready for work in the morning.
  Ladies,
  have you ever thought about how much of our morning routine requires
  two hands? I'm pretty sure I can't put in contacts with just one hand.
  I need one hand for the hairdryer and the other for the round brush...I
  have a strong feeling this going to be a Bad Hair week all the way
  through.
  And look - I'm only telling y'all, my reader friends, what
  really happened, I mean about grabbing the cat's tail and flying down
  the steps behind him like he was the boat and I was the uncoordinated
  water-skier. I think I'm going to try the skydiving story on everybody
  else, so y'all don't let that bad black-and-white kitty out of the bag,
  okay?

   
  

  
   
  By Celia DeWoody
  published 3/5/07 in the Harrison Daily Times
  Copyright CPI, Inc. 2007
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  • 7:44 pm
  • 7 Comments