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~ Boatdock Butcher
~
Throughout these pages I have referred to boating on Jordan Lake, a local, man-made body of water that is excellent for fishing and pleasure boating. My husband finally bought his boat in the spring of 1997, after which we spent as much time as we could possibly spare fishing and boating the lake. One balmy September Saturday in particular the family (minus Anthony) loaded up to spend the day on the lake fishing and swimming. There is a story to tell as a result of this Saturday on the lake that I thought I'd share. The story was written 10 days after the day in question... OK.
We were stupid frantic trying to get the final inspection, appraisal and etc. on the house in order to move. If you have never improved a previously unimproved and densely wooded piece of property you won't have a clue, but those of you who have, know what we have been up against on the labor end of it, not to mention the permits and inspectors and appraisers and surveys and all the rest of the jerks down the line you have to deal with. OK, because we were up to our eyeballs trying to get this monumental feat accomplished, we had not taken much "mental health" time, and decided it was time to do just that, so Saturday afternoon last weekend, like 10 days ago, hubby readied the boat, we stopped for sodas and snacks and bait, and hubby, daughter Sarah and meself set out for an afternoon fishing on the lake. I was driving, right? And so I dropped the boat in the water - no, not actually dropped it, although we did have a conversation moments before we put the boat in, about backing over the bridge and just giving it a good jerk, and wondering if the boat would land belly-down in the water that way <g> - and hubby tied up to the dock to await my descent (OK, so it will soon be known as a poor <but deliberate> choice of words)... I strolled down the dock, my usual, happy self (la-dee-da), and stepped into the boat, again, as usual. The keys to the van and my cigarette lighter were in my right pocket, cigarettes were in my left pocket,
sunglasses were on my face,
So. Having thusly cheered myself on I decided I was able to pull this one off and continued to unhook the rope from the cleat ('Just one more turn and I'm done!'). Should've listened to the left side of my brain, because I no sooner had that last thought than I knew I was a goner, it was just a matter of letting go soon enough to accomplish it with at least a minimal degree of grace (yeah, that's me - worried about grace). Being bottom heavy, and my bottom being the portion of my body that was not supported in any way, shape or form whatsoever, I naturally went bottom-first, but my body had to twist to get there, and I must not have released the dock in time to avoid injury. Sarah described it as something looking like doing a backwards dive into the water bottom-first, and I would imagine this is apt enough.
"You made a big splash, too, Mom!" Gee, thanks for THAT piece of information. And my parting thought (you know, as I parted the waters?) was, 'Damn! My cigarette got wet!' It was not until my head bobbed to the surface that I realized I had hurt my arm going down. My left arm, the one with which I was holding onto the dock. I grabbed one of the dock pillars and held on, catching my breath. And was quite dismayed to see the pack of cigarettes I had put into my pocket floating on the water, quickly getting soggy. BUT, was pleased the water was pleasant, certainly pleasant enough to enjoy a swim <g>. My loving husband and equally loving daughter were laughing so hard they could not see me, tears streaming down Sarah's face as she held her belly, pointing her finger and laughing. There was an old man at the end of the dock as well, holding another boat (as well as others being about), doing his very best to NOT laugh at my misfortune. He finally gave up, gave me what he (I'm sure) hoped was an apologetic shake of his head, and then just burst aloud.
And
I was treading water, hanging onto the slimy dock pillar trying to catch my
breath and realizing, 'Boy, my shoulder hurts! My cigarettes are all wet! My
glasses stayed on! Where's the car keys?' Clutching my arm I just shot him my best grimace and said, "Screw you."
I still had no idea I had broken anything, it just hurt. Bad. I nearly vomited. But like the valiant soul I went fishing, and I even caught a couple of nice, small channel (blue) cats, although Sarah had to reel them in for me because I had virtually no use of my left arm and hand at the time. In fact, sports fans, I caught the first fish that day... By Saturday evening, after we had pulled in and gone home, I decided I must have dislocated my shoulder. Dr. Tommy (loving husband that he is) offered to pop it back into place for me, but I declined. I told him he didn't want to hurt me cuz I'd hold it against him. I downed 4 Advil and went to bed, and by Sunday morning (after sleeping very little Saturday night) I decided I was ready to pay someone to pop my shoulder back into place so carried myself to the E.R. for an experienced hand. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Butcher. Your shoulder is not dislocated, see this piece of bone here at the top of the x-ray? This is supposed to be attached to the top of the humerus - here (indicating) - you have broken your shoulder!" Oh great. "What do we do now?" I asked. "Keep it still and see your orthopedic doctor on Wednesday." Oh, double great. The guy (orthopedic doctor) never did get over my broken wrist, which I managed while cutting grass two years ago. All I could think was the field day he was gonna have with THIS one!
Triple great. I've made the guy's day! Bottom line is, my tendons/ligaments/musculature that runs across the top of my shoulder were stronger than the bone. I twisted my arm enough that something had to give, and like knocking a chip of ice off the top of a block, a piece of bone snapped off to make room for the rotating motion of the tendons/ligaments etc. "You're out of commission again for 6-8 weeks <chuckle>. Keep the arm immobilized in a sling, and come back in four weeks so we can look at it again to make sure the piece of bone hasn't floated anywhere. No lifting, pushing, pulling, or carrying. If you try to use it, it is highly possible the bone fragment will move and we will have to do surgery to remove it. "But I'm moving." "No, you're not." :-( This too shall pass, just like all the rest of the hell I put myself through. Eventually, I get through it all. If not for the Grace of God and my sense of humor (which is but another facet of God's Grace), I'd have given up long ago. I get down, but I don't stay down, which I guess is one of the best Gifts I have been given.
It
really is too bad a video camera wasn't rolling at the time. I could have used a
couple of extra thousand right about now...
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freshly lit cigarette was in my mouth, and my hands were full of whatnots - my opened soda, a bag full of snacks, etc. Again, as usual, I turned around and put
down the things in my hands. NORMALLY (when has anything in my life been normal,
you ask?) I then take my seat and hubby gets up and unties us, pushes us off,
and away we go. Remember, I said NORMALLY.
Ah,
but then the right side of my brain said, "This is nothing! You are NOT
Sarah! YOU can DO it!" (rah-rah-rah, sis-boom-bah)
I
went down.
I never dreamed I had broken anything. Just twisted it good, I thought. Tommy,
finally finding the good sense to be embarrassed for me, began urging me to swim
over to the boat and climb in. I was still breathless and wondering how much use
of my arm I had lost, while the boat drifted further and further away from the
dock (going down I did manage to unhook that last figure eight so the boat was
free-floating).
A quick
inspection revealed that, though I had lost my lit cigarette and the pack I was
carrying as well, at least my car keys were still in my pocket.
Wednesday
dawns bright and clear and I walk to my appointment with Dr. Bos (yeah, of all
names, his is Bos). I finally get in a room and the resident comes in (we love
teaching hospitals, don't we?). Then, after waiting too long (I will not dwell
on that part of the story) Dr. Bos saunters in with a grin that literally splits
his face from one ear to the other. "So <weighted pause>, Amy
<another weighted pause>. What's this I hear about you being attacked by a
boat?"