A year ago, at this very moment, I could still say I had never broken a bone. By 7 p.m. or so that same night, I could no longer say the same.
365 days have passed since I broke my left wrist, my non-dominant hand (thank goodness). After rounding the last bow of my left roller skate lace quickly once YMCA started playing, I started going around the rink. Not long after, I landed on the wood floor, which has absolutely no give.
*said in my best Bill Paxton “the ship’s too big with too small a rudder” Titanic voice* I didn’t realize my skates wheels were built for speed and not leisure skating. And I didn’t realize my wrist was broken until I tried to rest my skates on my left arm to carry them.
A year has flown by since I’ve seen this door: the roller skating rink.
That first week, I thought it would be more difficult to deal with, as anxiety raised its ugly head and I learned much about cast claustrophobia (a real thing!). Of course, I got through that week by reminding myself that I drove myself to the hospital with my cold with-melting-ice-inside Starbucks iced tea cup pressed between my chin and broken wrist (arm up above my heart, close to my face).
Weeks two through six were easier. I’ve always been a good patient. Keep it elevated: check. Ice it often: check. Take Ibuprofen: check. Don’t drive much: check. I did as I was told. And unexpected things happened, too.
I slowed down, because I had to.
I marveled at what my body can do, because, wow, that’s cool.
I laughed it off, as I usually do (not too long after, once perspective takes hold).
I used it to break from then to now, from before to after.
It’s been more than 8 months since I’ve seen this door: Dr. Ortho.
The tiny cell crew, which I imagine swimming near the injury whilst wearing teeny hard hats and doing their work, are at the smoothing out phase of bone repair. I can bend my wrist all the way up, but still not all the way down (almost… and close enough). I’m fairly accurate at predicting rain now (moreso than our local meteorologists, but hey, that’s a low bar).
I work some place different now (obtained shortly after the break, after thinking about it for a time).
I tried things I was timid about doing, and every time I do, I think what’s the worst that could happen? I’ve been through worse, and made it. I’ve been through figuratively and now literally being broken. I. Can. Do. Anything.
I could break something? That’s a given, every day. People fall down walking their dogs or up their steps. Life — it’s meant to be lived.
The lessons my break amplified were things I knew, but that needed a signal boost, I guess. Mission accomplished. It was a break I wasn’t expecting, in more ways than one. But it’s a break I ended up being extremely grateful for.