I broke the fall with my hand.
At my cousin’s house. At her kid’s birthday party. In broad daylight.
File under: good embarrassing times.
Here’s what was happening precisely 11 minutes before that happened:
Specifically, “Heeeeeeey! Oh my gaahhhhhhd you’re here! I’m so glad you came!”
We’re southern. After the fall, I sprang to my feet and gasped, “oh mah lored, what in the WERLD?” and kept it moving.
A week later it was still “sore.” That’s code for: what in the fuck have I done to my hand?
As good fortune would have it, Anna had broken her wrist on the swings at school three weeks earlier. She had an appointment the following week to have her cast removed.
They removed it, took an x-ray and all was well.
As we were leaving I thought: hey while I’m here I should just have them do a quick x-ray of my hand. This will confirm I didn’t break anything and I’m just being a giant baby.
I had broken a bone in my hand.
The doctor wanted to put my arm in a cast.
I left with a neon pink cast up to my elbow.
The rest of the day was awkward because I’m a grown-up with a real job, but it wasn’t disturbing. Until I got in bed that night.
Then it became an obsession: if something crawls into this cast while I’m asleep, I won’t know until it starts wriggling and I wake up and lose my mind. What if something crawls in there and starts biting me? I’LL BE TRAPPED IN CONCRETE AND WILL NOT BE ABLE TO STOP THEM!
I guarded my cast through the night and begged the sun to rise. Then I went back to the doctor’s office.
Receptionist: May I help you?
Me: Take it off.
Receptionist: You’ll need an appointment.
Me: Take it off.
Receptionist: Are you having trouble sleeping?
Me: I’m having trouble living.
Receptionist: Let me get the doctor.
Doctor: Here’s a prescription for anxiety. It’s common to feel anxious – kids handle casts much better than adults.
I went straight to the pharmacy, filled the prescription and swallowed two instead of one.
It was 43% effective…when combined with a bottle of wine.
I worried most of the day and ALL of that night. I watched the sun rise again, and went back to the doctor’s office.
Receptionist: May I help you?
Me: Take it off.
Receptionist: You’ll need an appointment.
Me: TAKE IT OFF!!!!!!
Receptionist: Is the medication not working?
Me: I will burn down this office.
Receptionist: Let me get the doctor.
Doctor: You should leave the cast on for at least two weeks.
Me: There’s a medical supply store one mile from here. I will cut off my arm and sue you.
Doctor: Come on back.
He removed the cast with his fancy electric pizza cutter. I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy.
Ever.
Dr. Pizza Cutter put my arm in a removable splint so I could yank it off any time I was convinced a family of centipedes had taken up residence in it.
The splint was worn approximately 8 minutes per day for the next three weeks.
I never returned to the doctor’s office.
Because someone burned it down.
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