Over at Mama's Losin' It, Mama Kat's post
was about the time she fractured her clavicle.
I have four words:
three times, my blogger friends.
I was born with a broken collar bone.
But apparently it's not as uncommon as you'd think.
I'm not sure how this happens.
Mom pushed too hard?
Doctor slapped me upside the head?
The fact is,
in all my baby pictures
my head is a little lopsided.
Don't even think about posting
I was ten.
Staying up north with relatives.
On my dad's side.
This is an important fact ...
you'll see why in a moment.
One day, we went to the beach.
Strung across the front of the parking lot
was a yellow rope
dividing the parking spaces
from the beach area.
You know ...
to keep the stupid people from parking
on the grass and sand.
At some point, I needed something
from the car.
I ran full tilt, looking down
so I wouldn't trip on anything,
and lifted my head just as I approached the rope.
Now, I don't remember what happened next,
but someone told me ...
I caught the rope at my throat,
literally spun around it
and flipped over it
landing flat on my back.
Needless to say,
I passed out.
When I came to,
there were a lot of people peering down at me.
My aunt got me cleaned up,
patted my bum,
and sent me out to the water.
I actually felt pretty good,
all things considered,
except that my shoulder hurt.
After several days of my shoulder hurting
and not being able to lift my arm up,
my aunt -- on my mom's side -- called me
(you see where this is going, don't you?)
She was supposed to come and pick me up
to bring me over to my grandparents
and was just checking up to see how things were going.
I told her what happened.
She seemed quite alarmed,
and came right away to get me.
(to this day,
my mother speaks of this incident
with a little disdain,
practically spitting out my dad's sister's name)
We went straight to the hospital,
where they took x-rays,
and pronounced that my collar bone had broken.
Right in two.
The problem was,
that I'd been playing with a fractured clavicle
for several days,
and it was now all messed up.
I was told:
don't break it again,
you won't be able to use it properly.
Which brings us to the ...
(then The Boyfriend)
and I are skiing.
Two kids were skiing out of control
and hit me.
Again, I don't know what happened after that,
but TH told me it was almost comical,
something out of a cartoon.
I was airborne,
mitts, hat, poles and skis were all ejected,
When I came to,
all I could hear was TH shouting at someone:
"WTF were you guys doing!?
Don't you know what it means to ski in control?
Don't you dare leave!"
My face is planted in the snow
and I'm afraid to lift it up
because I expect to see blood everywhere.
My vision is really blurred,
and I can hear people shouting,
the ski patrol dude is checking my pulse,
lifting my eyelids,
Then the adrenaline leaves my body,
and the pain in my shoulder shoots through me.
The ski patrol wraps me up and puts me on the sled.
We're right below the ski lift.
This is humiliating.
Not to mention excruciatingly painful.
When we finally get to the hospital,
and take x-rays,
the doctor comes out and pronounces the results:
"Your clavicle is fractured."
He waits for a reaction.
I already know this.
So I just look at him,
waiting for him to continue.
Doc looks at TH.
"Perhaps she has a concussion."
I roll my eyes.
"Look," I said, "This isn't the first time.
Just give me some drugs and we'll go home."
"You don't seem to understand,"
"Oh, I understand, alright."
He looks at TH.
"She should be crying.
This is really painfull."
TH shrugs. "She's tough."
He actually sounds a little proud.
My left clavicle sticks out
at an odd angle.
Arthritis has set in.
Stay tuned ...
I'll tell you all about it,
the next time I break it.