March 29, 2013
Dear Everyone:
Anytime a conversation begins with, “I’ve done something incredibly
stupid…” it’s not good.
Last Tuesday, “Jeannie” stepped off a curb that wasn’t there, fell and
broke her elbow. Naturally,
she did what anyone would do:
Convinced herself that “it’s not that bad”, told the people at
the store that everything was “OK” and managed to drive herself home.
Even when she called me an hour later she insisted that it “wasn’t that
bad” until an injudicious move produced a shriek of pain.
(OK, new plan.)
That’s when we agreed that I would come up to her place.
By the time I arrived, she had a bag of ice on her arm.
(I didn’t think of the cold compress that I keep in the freezer
until the next day, when it was much too late, of course.)
We drove to the hospital (mercifully close by) and filled out
many forms. One of the
advantages to going to a hospital in
Walnut Creek is that things in the
Emergency Room are generally pretty calm.
There was no line to stand in.
We waited all of five minutes before Reception started taking
down information. An
attending quickly ordered an
x-ray.
While “Jeannie” got the x-ray, a family came in to wait their
turn: Mom, Dad and Junior,
complete with baseball uniform and what looked like a
line-drive to the
right eye. When
Spring
Training Goes Bad…
The x-ray confirmed: Elbow
Broken.
By this time, the ice had melted into a bag of cold water.
A nurse, or nurse’s assistant,
wrapped many layers of some kind of “woolly” stuff around “Jeannie’s”
arm, the latest in “splint technology”.
The attending confirmed the diagnosis and discharged us with a
referral to an
orthopedic specialist (in Walnut Creek, of course) and a
prescription for pain medication, which we filled at the Big Pharmacy
Chain Store on the way home.
Yesterday, the first “official” casualty of the New Reality was the
right sleeve of a cashmere sweater, which we cut off so that “Jeannie’s”
arm, in its synthetic cocoon, could fit through.
This morning we saw the orthopedic specialist (coincidentally in
the same medical group as the one who replaced my hip two years ago) who
cheerfully explained what had happened and why he wasn’t going to put
her whole arm in a cast. In
fact, no cast at all; just a
sling.
And, with minimal luck, she’d be able to use the arm “somewhat”
in 3-4 weeks.
Which means she’s planning on waiting all the way until next Monday to
begin working at home. Just
a little, to get caught up on work she had already done and needs to
deliver to the client. No
driving for a while, but that’s why I’m available.
(Another advantage to being
Retired.)
“Jeannie” said that now I would have something to write about in this
week’s Letter.
Frankly, I’d rather have nothing to write about.
Or I’d rather write about the
Scrub Jays and the squirrels squabbling
over the unshelled peanuts on the patio.
Or about the pair of raccoons who recently discovered my place
with all the “food, glorious food” available.
It certainly explains the overturned wooden table and how the metal
stand holding all the bird feeders got knocked down a while ago.
(I didn’t think a squirrel could have accomplished that.)
Now I put the peanuts away in the closet at sundown and put out a
couple scoops of kibble. I
know who’s eating the kibble because they were there barely half an hour
after I got home from “Jeannie’s” place Tuesday night.
And, by the way, the quail have returned.
Spring is Sprung.
Love, as always,
Pete
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