Broke
I don't want to sound ungrateful for my quality time with mum last week, but after a week sitting next to her in the Montpellier hospital I'd had a bellyfull of hospitals.
So imagine how delighted I was to find myself in the A&E department of our local hospital this morning with my arm in a sling.
It started with a call from my friend Bert asking if I could play hockey Monday night. His team was short-handed and anybody who knew which end of the stick to hold would be fine.
I was just back from France and had a stiff neck from sitting in the uncomfortable chair next to mum, but when duty and a good friend call...
So imagine my surprise when just one minute into the match I found myself upside down in midair looking down (through the heavy, freezing rain) at the astroturf where I was about to land heavily and wondering who could possibly have slammed me so hard from behind. You guessed it: Bert. Like all the best goalkeepers he likes to stamp his authority on the opposing striker early in the match.
I applaud this, but not when I am standing between him and the aforementioned striker. The target of Bert's charge limped away with blood pouring out of a gash in his knee while I picked myself and then my arm off the turf. It felt like my arm had popped out of its socket and straight back in.
As usual, I decided that the only course of action was to run it off, so I finished the match despite the fact that I couldn't actually hit the ball without dropping my stick in agony.
So that's how we ended up in another damn hospital this morning. A quick X-ray showed that Bert, sorry I, had chipped a chunk off the top of my arm bone. The bit of bone appears to be more or less where it is supposed to and in a place where putting my arm in plaster won't work. So I have a sling and the same painkillers mum is popping by the fistful at the moment and am hoping the bone chip doesn't drift off into another part of my body.
So imagine how delighted I was to find myself in the A&E department of our local hospital this morning with my arm in a sling.
It started with a call from my friend Bert asking if I could play hockey Monday night. His team was short-handed and anybody who knew which end of the stick to hold would be fine.
I was just back from France and had a stiff neck from sitting in the uncomfortable chair next to mum, but when duty and a good friend call...
So imagine my surprise when just one minute into the match I found myself upside down in midair looking down (through the heavy, freezing rain) at the astroturf where I was about to land heavily and wondering who could possibly have slammed me so hard from behind. You guessed it: Bert. Like all the best goalkeepers he likes to stamp his authority on the opposing striker early in the match.
I applaud this, but not when I am standing between him and the aforementioned striker. The target of Bert's charge limped away with blood pouring out of a gash in his knee while I picked myself and then my arm off the turf. It felt like my arm had popped out of its socket and straight back in.
As usual, I decided that the only course of action was to run it off, so I finished the match despite the fact that I couldn't actually hit the ball without dropping my stick in agony.
So that's how we ended up in another damn hospital this morning. A quick X-ray showed that Bert, sorry I, had chipped a chunk off the top of my arm bone. The bit of bone appears to be more or less where it is supposed to and in a place where putting my arm in plaster won't work. So I have a sling and the same painkillers mum is popping by the fistful at the moment and am hoping the bone chip doesn't drift off into another part of my body.
posted by corders | 11:38 AM
2 Comments:
Obviously much sympathy for you. However, out of the two of us, I would have expected that I would have been the one posting about broken arms. Also, in this high tech age, I expect to see X-Rays of the damage - what have you got an iPhone for, after all.
take care
dan
We thought you would have learnt to avoid contact sports at your age, especially after yours (and my dad's) achilles injury a few years ago. Please have Esther or Julia sign your cast for me. Love Bridget.
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