Hello, all! I apologize for having 2 writing-only posts back-to-back. I actually have a ton of new pictures to post ~ I just need to take the time to post and write about them. We have had a busy summer!
So, are you curious about the title of this post? I have finally decided that my orthopedic issues deserve a little attention, mostly because I have finally begun to pity myself ~ in a very tongue-in-cheek fashion. :) I partly blame Keith, my brother, who has never had any orthopedic issues and simply didn't take his fair share of them, being the other child of our orthopedic Dad. Keith, you owe me! :)
Let's go back in time for a moment.... Growing up, I definitely had my share of bumps, bruises, and broken bones. My Mom can back me up on this one. It began when I was 5 years old and broke my elbow when I fell while climbing bookshelves. It hurt very badly, but I was much more concerned with my little boy friend from next door who got a glimpse of my panties during my fall. Years later, I broke my wrist while on a family vacation in Colorado. One Christmas morning, I broke my finger while shooting hoops outside with Daddy in the Wilsons' driveway. During my years of cheerleading, I had various orthopedic issues, including some broken toes and fingers, and not the least of which included a minor tailbone bruise and my being "forced" to carry a donut pillow around with me on which to sit.
I almost escaped my 4 years of Vanderbilt unscathed, save one very minor broken toe. My years in New Orleans were almost uneventful, as well, except a minor shoulder injury resulting from dancing. Don't ask. For those of you who know New Orleans, I was at F&M's; no, I was not completely honest with the doctor when I was explaining how I got my injury. I almost got away from Atlanta without any injuries, until about a month before my wedding, when I cracked a bone in my foot and had to wear a boot. Everyone joked that I would be walking down the aisle in that boot. Yeah, right. When pigs fly.
So then I moved to Augusta.... Well, most of you know the drama that ensued at that point in my life. Two months into our marriage, Brad and I decided to spend a week down at the beach, celebrating the end of his first month as an Intern. On our first full day there, it was late afternoon, and we were planning to go to Boondock's to eat and return to watch what was sure to be an amazing sunset. Well, that didn't happen. While Brad was bringing the chairs up from the beach, I was inside eating a piece of cheese when our beloved dogs (Stanley, a pug, and Doc, a golden retriever) began to try to get the cheese from me. I fell on the tile floor, shattering my left wrist. I ended up at Bay Medical, where they determined that I needed emergent surgery before I lost the function of my wrist due to the numerous bone fragments threatening to cause nerve damage. However, they were going to "make me comfortable" (ie, dope me up on morphine) for a few hours while I waited for the orthopedic surgeon. I decided I would rather drive the hour and a half to Dothan and let one of my Dad's partners do the surgery. However, I did accept their offer of lots of morphine, and Brad and I were on our way.
When we arrived in Dothan, I was feeling significantly better ~ enough so that I was willing to use the restroom and take a pregnancy test. You know, "just in case." Well, you guessed it! Sometime before midnight, a nurse popped in my room and said something along the lines of, "We'll be back in about 10 minutes to take you to the O.R.... Oh, and by the way, pink means your pregnant! Congratulations!" Brad and Annette Wilson (who was sweet enough to stay with us at the hospital) couldn't believe their ears; I thought it was the morphine talking. It wasn't though; I was pregnant with Alli and couldn't have been more thrilled!!! I had my surgery, and Brad and I returned to the beach for a very different vacation than we had expected.
After 2 months of wearing an ex-fix and 6 months of Occupational Therapy, my surgeon following me in Augusta decided I needed more surgery. (For those of you who do not know what an external fixator is, it is something orthopedists use to help stabilize a joint that has been fractured. It consists of four 4 inch metal pins which go into the bone and stick out of your arm; all pins are then stabilized externally by a metal bar which connects them. Make sense?) Being very pregnant at that time, it was decided that I would wait until Alli was at least 6 months old so I could breastfeed her for that period of time. The fall after Alli was born in 2005, I had another surgery during which bone was taken from my hip for my wrist, followed by another 6 months of OT. The result? Well, thanks to my fabulous surgeon, my wonderful OT, and the titanium now residing in my wrist, I have more function than I had previously. I do have chronic pain (I swear, I feel the changes in the weather!) and continue to have "issues" with my hip from time to time. But so be it. I consider myself very lucky for it to have ended up like this.
I also consider myself to have paid my orthopedic penance. Apparently, not everyone agrees. The "orthopedic gods" are still out to get me. :) In the past year alone, I have had several orthopedic injuries.... Last fall, I fell again (yes, while I was pregnant with Elizabeth ~ see a trend?), and I "hurt" my right foot (Brad and I think there was a hairline fracture, but I didn't want to see a doctor, so we don't really know). Apparently I do not learn from my mistakes, because I not only fell once, but twice...within 5 minutes of each other...in the exact same spot...in a hospital after having an ECHO, with about 15 medical students standing just a few feet away. Can you say, "Utter humiliation?" In my defense, water on a slick floor was the true culprit, and not my absence of ability to stay upright.... The day before Father's Day, I broke my toe, and since I still have pain and swelling in my toe and foot, I may have done something else, as well. But again, no biggie ~ I just deal with it.... The latest? Medial knee pain, which is worse when I am getting out of the car or hyper-extending my knee. Hmmm.... a possible meniscus tear?
My husband has decided I am a total clutz. I choose not to see it that way. Or, rather, I was not a clutz until I met and married him. :) But I have decided to make lemonade out of these lemons the orthopedic gods continue to toss to me. My plan? To write an Irma Bombeck- / Lewis Grizzard-type of novel about this and make millions! Brad, don't make fun of me; you may be thanking me one day when you can retire early. :)
So, are you curious about the title of this post? I have finally decided that my orthopedic issues deserve a little attention, mostly because I have finally begun to pity myself ~ in a very tongue-in-cheek fashion. :) I partly blame Keith, my brother, who has never had any orthopedic issues and simply didn't take his fair share of them, being the other child of our orthopedic Dad. Keith, you owe me! :)
Let's go back in time for a moment.... Growing up, I definitely had my share of bumps, bruises, and broken bones. My Mom can back me up on this one. It began when I was 5 years old and broke my elbow when I fell while climbing bookshelves. It hurt very badly, but I was much more concerned with my little boy friend from next door who got a glimpse of my panties during my fall. Years later, I broke my wrist while on a family vacation in Colorado. One Christmas morning, I broke my finger while shooting hoops outside with Daddy in the Wilsons' driveway. During my years of cheerleading, I had various orthopedic issues, including some broken toes and fingers, and not the least of which included a minor tailbone bruise and my being "forced" to carry a donut pillow around with me on which to sit.
I almost escaped my 4 years of Vanderbilt unscathed, save one very minor broken toe. My years in New Orleans were almost uneventful, as well, except a minor shoulder injury resulting from dancing. Don't ask. For those of you who know New Orleans, I was at F&M's; no, I was not completely honest with the doctor when I was explaining how I got my injury. I almost got away from Atlanta without any injuries, until about a month before my wedding, when I cracked a bone in my foot and had to wear a boot. Everyone joked that I would be walking down the aisle in that boot. Yeah, right. When pigs fly.
So then I moved to Augusta.... Well, most of you know the drama that ensued at that point in my life. Two months into our marriage, Brad and I decided to spend a week down at the beach, celebrating the end of his first month as an Intern. On our first full day there, it was late afternoon, and we were planning to go to Boondock's to eat and return to watch what was sure to be an amazing sunset. Well, that didn't happen. While Brad was bringing the chairs up from the beach, I was inside eating a piece of cheese when our beloved dogs (Stanley, a pug, and Doc, a golden retriever) began to try to get the cheese from me. I fell on the tile floor, shattering my left wrist. I ended up at Bay Medical, where they determined that I needed emergent surgery before I lost the function of my wrist due to the numerous bone fragments threatening to cause nerve damage. However, they were going to "make me comfortable" (ie, dope me up on morphine) for a few hours while I waited for the orthopedic surgeon. I decided I would rather drive the hour and a half to Dothan and let one of my Dad's partners do the surgery. However, I did accept their offer of lots of morphine, and Brad and I were on our way.
When we arrived in Dothan, I was feeling significantly better ~ enough so that I was willing to use the restroom and take a pregnancy test. You know, "just in case." Well, you guessed it! Sometime before midnight, a nurse popped in my room and said something along the lines of, "We'll be back in about 10 minutes to take you to the O.R.... Oh, and by the way, pink means your pregnant! Congratulations!" Brad and Annette Wilson (who was sweet enough to stay with us at the hospital) couldn't believe their ears; I thought it was the morphine talking. It wasn't though; I was pregnant with Alli and couldn't have been more thrilled!!! I had my surgery, and Brad and I returned to the beach for a very different vacation than we had expected.
After 2 months of wearing an ex-fix and 6 months of Occupational Therapy, my surgeon following me in Augusta decided I needed more surgery. (For those of you who do not know what an external fixator is, it is something orthopedists use to help stabilize a joint that has been fractured. It consists of four 4 inch metal pins which go into the bone and stick out of your arm; all pins are then stabilized externally by a metal bar which connects them. Make sense?) Being very pregnant at that time, it was decided that I would wait until Alli was at least 6 months old so I could breastfeed her for that period of time. The fall after Alli was born in 2005, I had another surgery during which bone was taken from my hip for my wrist, followed by another 6 months of OT. The result? Well, thanks to my fabulous surgeon, my wonderful OT, and the titanium now residing in my wrist, I have more function than I had previously. I do have chronic pain (I swear, I feel the changes in the weather!) and continue to have "issues" with my hip from time to time. But so be it. I consider myself very lucky for it to have ended up like this.
I also consider myself to have paid my orthopedic penance. Apparently, not everyone agrees. The "orthopedic gods" are still out to get me. :) In the past year alone, I have had several orthopedic injuries.... Last fall, I fell again (yes, while I was pregnant with Elizabeth ~ see a trend?), and I "hurt" my right foot (Brad and I think there was a hairline fracture, but I didn't want to see a doctor, so we don't really know). Apparently I do not learn from my mistakes, because I not only fell once, but twice...within 5 minutes of each other...in the exact same spot...in a hospital after having an ECHO, with about 15 medical students standing just a few feet away. Can you say, "Utter humiliation?" In my defense, water on a slick floor was the true culprit, and not my absence of ability to stay upright.... The day before Father's Day, I broke my toe, and since I still have pain and swelling in my toe and foot, I may have done something else, as well. But again, no biggie ~ I just deal with it.... The latest? Medial knee pain, which is worse when I am getting out of the car or hyper-extending my knee. Hmmm.... a possible meniscus tear?
My husband has decided I am a total clutz. I choose not to see it that way. Or, rather, I was not a clutz until I met and married him. :) But I have decided to make lemonade out of these lemons the orthopedic gods continue to toss to me. My plan? To write an Irma Bombeck- / Lewis Grizzard-type of novel about this and make millions! Brad, don't make fun of me; you may be thanking me one day when you can retire early. :)
6 comments:
Oh my goodness...... ANOTHER injury!!!!! I'm sorry I can't be there to laugh with you about it! Maybe you should just stay at home at all times because you seem to be pretty safe there!!!!!
was a pool table involved at f & m's?
Ah, F&M's, many a night was spent dancing on a pool table at 3 in the morning. Sweet, sweet memories. This is much like the cab driver who had to pile me and my drunken crew into his cab from St. Peter street outside of Pat O'Brien's and rush me and my broken Clavicle to the ER.
Our hay-days were full of excitement. "It's not a night out in New Orleans unless someone has a fracture." Please feel better and stop falling!!!!!!
Geez, I ever realized how many injuries you've had! Steven is kind of a klutz too, but he doesn't break bones- he just bangs his head on stuff. I have to make sure I close the kitchen cabinets right after I open them because he will walk straight into them! We have a rule that I can laugh at him if I promise to help bandage the wound, lol. Maybe you two should compare injury stories!!
Why does it not suprise me at all that you were dancing on a pool table at 3am? SA
Okay, let me clarify the pool table thing. At F&M's, the "dancefloor," so to speak, WAS a pool table. That is what "everyone" did ~ stood on the pool table with about 30 or so other people and danced. And it was quite crowded, so to help yourself not fall off, you held onto the rafters. Literally. And that is the story of my shoulder. Beyond that, I am pleading the 5th. (ha!) New Orleanians ~ back me up here!! :)
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