TheFall

The glorious wedding day. Most guests come with expectations for a fun evening. Several of my guests came with ace bandages that I actually used. Let me set the scene: I hit the tile floor hard and fast because my legs flew up from under me. I looked up and around and hoped no one saw. Such a vision in white spewed out on the floor so of course everyone saw me. We had just entered the wedding venue for the reception and no more than ten minutes in the door there I was laid out for all to see. It pretty much set the bar low for course of the wedding and entire marriage. Ok, so now I have to ask: “who does this?” (I was sober). There are no words to explain how foolish I felt and embarrassing it was. It was truly was an accident but really? I checked my legs to be sure they were ok but I fell so far to the right I landed on my right wrist, you guessed it - my dominant hand and shattered it. I remember seeing my hand hang from my wrist away from my arm. It was an alarming sight to say the least. The guests with ace bandages were doctors so I had on-site immediate care. How could they have known? My hand was wrapped and I stayed throughout the reception. It was difficult for everyone there but I hated to leave and didn’t know what to do. I made it through the evening (which was a disaster for other reasons as well).

I kept my hand in a full ice bucket overnight but the next morning I was adamant that I go to the hospital right then. The pain was brutal. I thought that keeping it on ice over-night would help (it didn’t) and hated the thought of my dress being ruined (it wasn't). Obviously there was too much thinking going on (I’m not saying smart thinking here just thinking). We made it to the closest urgent care who called in a hand specialist. After x-rays the doctor hooked my hand by the fingers up to a trapeze-like thing that hung from the ceiling. It was an attempt to get the shattered pieces of bone to fall together. No such luck. The medical term is Colles Fracture. Google it. It makes for interesting reading. Here’s where I realize angels were watching over me. The hand surgeon was moving to attend a medical university in Seattle, WA to further his education on hands so I met him just in time. In a month he would have been gone. He was already highly-skilled and I’ll never forget his name. I am grateful to say the least. The honeymoon was cancelled and surgery was scheduled in ten days. I was insistent that I didn’t want pins and the doctor insisted that pins were necessary. Not just your internal pins and screws but an “External Fixator” on the outside with four pins about 4 inches long each secured by several rods. I still have the scars which are a small price to pay for this injury. It was the best way to anchor my hand in such an angle that the fractured pieces could fall together and heal. He was sure that if this wasn’t done my hand would heal in a frozen state with zero range of motion. I was 28 then and he suggested that I was much too young for that. He further explained that the fracture was like someone took a raw egg and held it horizontally between both hands and pushed towards the center of the egg fracturing the shell into many pieces.

The surgery took place and was successful, the marriage- not so much. This was not a good way to start married life (among so many other issues. That’s another story). How did I fall? There was a piece of innocent white netting from the décor that found its way to the floor. It was white on white. It’s strange in a good way that no one else fell. Apparently, it got caught on the scalloped hem of my dress with beading and I stepped on it.

It was hard to manage things one day at a time. I had to learn to do everything with my left hand including using the bathroom which is an interesting scene that I will not get into here. Buttoning buttons is another task difficult but doable with one hand. “X” was my new but temporary signature and sleeping was another issue. My hand always felt like it was falling off so I propped my left hand under it. The doctor advised me not to keep so my muscles would work. I tried but it was hard. Thank God for two hands! Physical therapy was the continuation of this picnic (sarcasm). That being said I am grateful for that as well. Standing in front of a peg board mounted to a wall screwing and unscrewing bolts produced a fairly good range of motion. Eventually I could pull my arm over my head but everything was still a chore. On top of that, my right arm was this lovely greenish-blue-gray color that stayed for about a year. I wish I could come up with a name for that color to add to the Crayola Box of crayons. It didn’t go unnoticed. The plan was to be on short-term disability until March but I headed back to work in January due to a nonworking husband (I didn’t know this before the marriage. Funny what we don’t know until we have to. Call it living for the dream or really bad judgment). I can remember typing and filing, trying to do what the job required of me to the best of my ability at that time. The first time I could pick up a stapler was in June the following year (I was married in November). And talk about emotions: they are shot ALL the time. It was a difficult time and I really should have been at home. There is a plus side to this adventure: I was at my thinnest as an adult. Call me shallow but my weight was at a good number.

All that being said I have a good range of motion and most people don’t know this story unless I tell it and I have the scars to prove it. There are a few people that can tell there’s some stiffness but there’s never any real pain. Sometimes it aches with cold or damp weather but considering how bad it was, I will not complain. I laugh about it….now. Being present in the drama, not so much laughing going on. People say things happen for a reason but I’m not so sure. Accidents do happen and they are what we make of them and this could have turned out a whole lot worse. But again I have to ask: who falls at their own wedding reception? I know people do more often than we know but geez. I tried to find a picture of a bride falling and couldn't find one if that tells you anything. I should have looked up drunk bride.

I still dream and I’m a dreamer. Not so much about weddings but other things I would like to see happen in my lifetime. I may or may not marry again. We shall see what the dreams hold for me there. Hopes and dreams, they’re what makes life worthwhile. They can also fall – hard.