I Shot The Duck and the Damned Thing Shot Back

Yes, old dogs can learn new tricks...and new lessons, as well.  While 42 is by no means ancient, it is certainly not the ideal age to bust out the roller skates with the idea that 'it's just like riding a bike'.  It's not.  I mean it.

I recall freely flowing up and down the streets of our old neighborhood as a child, wind in my hair as I glided hither and thither, spinning, twirling, almost..but not quite...falling and bounding back up again to continue on my merry way.  I don't like to brag, but on our block I was the rollerskating version of Dorothy Hamill.  Don't know who she is?  Google it, you obnoxious little brat...you and your rap music and saggy jeans.  Get a job!  Ahem...anyway, I digress.  I really loved skating and I wore my skates at every opportunity.  Call me Tootie!  You've never heard of her either?  Youth.  Bah.

Funny things happen to a body as it ages.  Joints stiffen, balance becomes a bit more tenuous, and our pride is much more easily wounded than it was in our younger days.  So, when a sweet group of kids who think the WORLD of me asked me to go roller skate with them, in the street in front of our house, at 6:00 at night, in the dark, I was only too happy to oblige!  The twins and my niece and nephew had all donned their roller skates and were zipping up and down the driveway before dinner.  It was so cute and really, had I not been engrossed in helping prepare dinner and watching the Saints get ready to whip some Detroit Lions bahookie, I would have been out there warming up with them in the daylight.  Remember that fact.  Daylight is best for rollerskating.  Lesson #1.  Check.  When they asked me to put on my skates and come out with them, I thought to myself, "what's the harm? A few minutes of up and down the street and we'll all have a fun little memory to tuck away for later."  Yeah, right.

I must admit, I was a bit wobbly.  Ever since the twins were born, my balance has been less than stellar.  I first discovered it on a trip to Disneyland.  The Teacup Ride was NOT as fun as it used to be.  I didn't throw up, but WOW, did I have a tough time shaking that dizzying feeling.  It's a bummer, too, because I was one of those kids who found joy in spinning in circles endlessly just for the euphoric feeling that would follow.  Now, the only feeling I get can best be described as that morning after that party when I drank all that Grappa in the shed out by the peach orchard.

So, I summoned up a bit of courage, taking things slowly at first.  I knew if I wanted to make a habit of my return to skating, I'd have to adjust the trucks.  They were way too stiff.  Lesson #2.  Make sure your equipment is in good working condition.  Check.  I moved up and down the street, slowly gaining the courage to make a turn when the kids all began to inquire about my ability to skate backwards.  Could I do it?  Would I show them how to do it?  Well, yes I could and yes I would!!!  Lesson #3.  Don't let your mouth write checks your body can't cash.  Roger that.

The infamous piece of aggregate.

Yes, back in my younger days, I was quite the backwards skater.  We all were.  We had to be.  It was mandatory if you ever hit the 5-7 p.m. session at Roller World.  It was especially important if you wanted to couple-skate with that really cute guy with the feathered hair and cool comb in his back pocket.  So, knowing the trucks of my skates were much too tight, I took things slowly.  I showed the kids the basics of skating backwards.  Make sure you are looking behind you when necessary.  Check your feet.  Don't attempt the crossover until you practice more.  Oh, and watch out for that piece of aggregate in the road.  Yeah, that one right there....um...oops...too late.





Down I went, falling just like I did so many years ago.  Only, this time, something was different.  Oh, there it was...it was my wrist.  It was bent like a cartoon character's wrist would be right after he tried, rather unsuccessfully, to karate chop a board.

Hong Kong Phooey, number one Super Guy!

There was no question about it.  My LEFT arm was broken.  I felt bones grinding.  Sorry, I don't mean to be graphic, but truly, it was such a bizarre sensation.  Did I mention that this was the first time I'd ever broken a bone?  I instinctively pulled my hand away from my arm to alleviate the awkward sensation of my arm bending where no joint existed only moments earlier.  Luckily, I felt no pain.  Just serious discomfort.  I yelled to the kids to run inside and get dad because my arm was broken.  Little did I know that inside the house, not twenty seconds earlier, the following conversation was going on.

Maurice (the husband):  Where's Leanne?
Mike (my brother):  Oh, she's outside rollerskating with the kids.
Maurice:  Damn, she's gonna break her neck.
Mike:  Nah, she's actually a REALLY good skaterrrrrrr.......cut to front door opening and lots of yelling.
Kids:  Dad!  Mom broke her arm!  Come quick!

Pulled pork was in the crock pot, the Saints game was about to start and now I'm the reason that my brother and sister-in-law had to clean up my kitchen and babysit my kids that night and my husband missed dinner AND the entire game.  All I could think to do was continue to apologize to them.  Tracy pulled off my skates as I laid in the street.  She even put on my flip flops for me.  She's awesome, have I mentioned that before?  My brother kept reassuring me that everything was going to be okay.  He's so awesome, too.  He brought out the cookie sheet and a dish towel for me.  The cookie sheet kept my wrist straight and the dish towel covered the carnage I was not quite ready to see.  If you ever have to triage a broken arm, these two items are a must.  I don't care that the doctor and some of the nurses looked at me like I was a nut job when I explained their very important role in my care.  Jerks.  What did they know?  I found comfort, both physically and emotionally, because I had these items.  And my dear, sweet husband, who puts up with SO much from me and our spawn, he has a higher place in Heaven because of me and my antics.  He made fun of me all the way to the emergency room.  He made me bust out laughing when I clearly should have been freaking out.  He even answered questions for me when I asked, 'is this what it felt like when you broke your arm, leg, shoulder, foot'...fill in the blank, the boy is a hot mess of accidents.

I won't bore you with the ER garbage.  We all know how that goes down.  Wait right here...explain what happened (insert humiliation here), more waiting....on a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you experiencing, just hang on and the doctor will be in soon (repeated 47 times over the course of four hours)...let's get some vitals, wait some more...and then the morphine.  Blessed morphine turned what could have been a horrid experience into something fun and exciting!  It also calmed me enough to give me a moment of clarity.  My arm was starting to swell.  My finger was next in line.  Get the wedding ring off NOW!  Phew.

After a valiant attempt at a reduction, the doctor referred me to an orthopedic surgeon.  Surgery was necessary and thank the LORD for Facebook and good friends who referred me to Sierra Pacific Orthopedic!  A scant five days later, I was all stitched up, a new titanium plate and a few sassy little screws and zip ties holding together my arm and a good bit of my pride as well.

Less than 24 hours after the surgery, the husband went offshore, giving me yet another opportunity to challenge myself to do things without help.  Having one's dominant arm in a cast is a trial for another day, and another post, so stay tuned for my tips and tricks for using your non-dominant hand in times of trouble (shaving your pits), amusement (signing your kid's homework) or boredom (crocheting with your foot).  It's sure to be an amusing read, if I do say so myself.

This is after the attempt at the reduction.
Yep, that is NOT fixed.  Time for surgery.

All my bling.  And it just looks nicer, don't you think?

A rare moment of unwrapped joy.  Time to scratch that itch!

Black is slimming.

So, all in all, not a horrible experience.  Insurance covered more than I thought they would and the surgeon didn't charge nearly as much as I thought he would.  Lesson learned and Lord willing, I'll be off to physical therapy with my baby sister-in-law in the weeks to come (yet another fun post just waiting to unfold)!  I can't wait to supinate!






Funny side note...as I'm having a cast put on after surgery, I'm explaining to Gene, the orthopedic technologist, how this all went down.  He proceeds to tell me he grew up rollerskating at a place called Roller World...up in Concord, CA.  We grew up two miles from each other.  Probably skated past each other a few times on a long-ago summer night rollerskating session.  Small world.  Roller World. Shoot the duck, my friends.  Shoot that damned duck.