Life as a lefty, and I'm not talking politics

Tuesday, November 2nd I was happily peddling myself to work, when I came across a car who was pulled out too far on the sidewalk.   I cautiously maneuvered around the car, attempting to stay out of the road, but as I cut back onto the drive way, my front tire must have caught the curb wrong, which caused my bike to go right, and my body to go left.

The initial fall didn't hurt but then came the self evaluation.   With my legs bent to my right and my newly acquired road rash stinging away I propped myself up on my left arm.  I then attempted to move my right arm which was resting in a brush pile, and nothing happened.  Never a good sign. Using my left hand I cautiously felt up my arm and discovered the void between where my shoulder should have been connected.   After shaking off the heebie geebies I attempted to move my limp right arm closer to my body with my left hand and was stopped short by excruciating pain. 

Two women who had witnessed my fall stopped and while one called the police, the other did her best to comfort me.   I'm grateful for their consideration and kindness, and wish I could thank them further, but I  was in no state to jot down contact info.  As we all listened to the approaching sirens a few thoughts ran through my head: How does one person get in a bike accident less than 3 weeks after a car accident?  I’m glad that these ants crawling on my limp arm are not the biting kind.  How gross is it that my shoulder is separated like this?  Well, I'll just go to the hospital, do what needs to be done, and call Jonathan when I'm ready to go home.  Mid internal ramblings, the woman who called 911  asked if she could call my work, but for the life of me I had no idea what that number was and really wasn’t that concerned.

The firefighters/EMTs who came to my rescue were fantastic.  While the lead guy kept trying to figure out just what kind of dislocation I had,  three others got ready for the big move.  Lead guy had my limp arm, second guy had my shoulder, third guy had my backpack and fourth guy was crouched behind me with his arms around my waist.  Never before have I cried out in pain until the first pick up attempt.  Fail.  Attempt two was a success but started with me blubbering that I couldn’t stand up.  Right after I said it I was a little embarrassed that I'd actually said it out loud. 

The short, bumpy trip to the ER included 4 units of morphine to “make the pain tolerable”. Despite the chaos I was impressed with my low blood pressure and very low heart rate of 51 , but I don't think the EMTs shared my sentiment.   Another 2 units of morphine were provided when it came time to move me from the gurney to the bed.  A friendly, well inked x-ray tech took a few x-rays and placed my backpack on the bed. This was the first time I was within reach of my phone and knew it was my chance to make a call, but I just couldn’t seem to transfer the thought into either words or action. 

The very friendly orthopedist came in, evaluated my situation out loud for the crowed of nurses and made a slow attempt to re-connect my dangling limb while I was sitting.  The pain was a no-go.  He then told me I would be getting more drugs  and they would try another approach.  A small cadre of nurses again entered the room, and as I rotated to my stomach to drape my arm off the side a nurse rambled off  three pharmaceutical names and started injecting into my IV.

Not sure how much later, but eventually I woke up on my back, alone in my ER room and noticed my arm was back in its proper place.  I was quiet the content little camper.  I’ll admit, it’s a little blurry from here, but I know some nurses came to check on me, then Jonathan arrived, as did his aunt and uncle, followed by my brother.  As it turned out, my not calling work led to Jonathan getting a call regarding my no show status and all hell breaking loose.  Parents notified, missing persons reports in the works and hospital searches galore, finally ended with Mike locating me by “Caetano”.  I don’t know how many times I repeated the spelling of my last name complete with hyphen, but apparently the hyphen and the letters that follow were completely disregarded. 

After arriving home I proceeded with a drug altered, barely memorable conversation with Jonathan’s aunt while he ran to pick up my Rx, then napped for a good 3.5 hours and started my experience as a lefty.  I’m grateful to be healthy, and for the dents in my helmet instead of my skull, and that I only dislocated my shoulder, but I tell ya, everything I do with my right arm in a sling takes a little extra effort, and a lot more time.  Eating is mildly entertaining as I likely look like a cave woman, shoveling my food with a death grip on my fork.  One handed typing has been a hoot and left handed scribbling is quite slow going.  Home improvement tasks are a bit more challenging, but I'm pretty impressed with my lefty painting skills.  

 I have an appointment scheduled with an orthopedist on Tuesday, and am hoping to get out of this sling before the possible 6 week duration listed on my ER paper work.  The two aspects of this experience I'm most interested in seeing are my x-rays and my hospital bill…
  
P.S. As much as I'd like to post a few more pics, I'll leave out the pictures of my road rash : )

ALWAYS wear a helmet when you ride!  There just so happened to be a curb/lot divider where I feel, which is what my helmet hit.

Wed morning I discovered 3 of these hidden on my body still.  Fun.  I also discovered a band-aid where they had snuck in a tetanus shot.  Slippery nurses.

My bike road on the fire truck to the hospital.