Old Folx, Ladders and Tweety Bird Slippers: The Hold My Beer Edition

Hello, my Lovelies!

Yes, I know. It's been almost three hundred years; about four months to be exact, since I've last blogged. I had a book release scheduled for December 17th and was already having problems, but then I got sidetracked. I have a good reason, tho.

It's a doctor's note reason, actually.

You see, I live in an apartment on the fourth floor. Because I'm on the top level, I have vaulted ceilings. When I need to go up high, I have a four step ladder but I call it a three step; on account I only go as high as the third step. I seldom use this ladder because I have a two-step stepping ladder that I use when I'm getting stuff off the top shelf.  I'm a shortcake (5'4), which is kind of average but most consider that short. This is my go-to ladder for almost everything so I always grab it.

Anyhoo, I have a sliding patio door with those long, ugly blinds. I actually really dislike looking at them, so when I moved in, I hung curtains. That was two years ago. It's now the Friday before New Year's 2016. The Job-That-Pays-The-Bills gives us the last week of the year off. I was correcting my book so I can get it uploaded before the New Year. I was frustrated because I have a new computer and it's giving me fits of despair.

I looked at the curtains and, in my twisted mind, decided I aint like'em no more - they gotta go. I stopped what I was doing and went to measure for new ones. Since I'm all artsy and craftsy and stuff, I was going to make my own. I hadn't picked up the pattern as of yet, but that will come in the New Year. 

So I...

...this is the "hold my beer" moment...

...I got the three step ladder out. It's a cold day and I'm having hip pain, on account of being old and stuff. So my dumb self got on the ladder to measure from the top of the blinds to the floor. While wearing Tweety Bird slippers. For some weird reason, I couldn't remember the last measurements...I think this is on account of being old and stuff.

Come to think of it, I actually wrote a Inuyasha short stories about frying chicken wearing Tweety Bird slippers. This information, ironically, was not pinging around my head as I was doing this.

Anyhoo...

I finish the measurement and went to step down. Except, in my geezerly mind, I'm thinking I'm on the two step ladder, because I use it so much.  I went to the last step...

...but I was on the three step ladder...on the third step. When I stepped off, I was having the sensation that I was floating. The floor, which is what I was reaching for, was actually up higher because I was on the bigger ladder. I wasn't stepping to the floor - I was actually falling.

This is that part where I'm thinking in the dream sense, "am I falling?"

As I kept falling, I'm thinking, "longest. fall. ever." 

Don't act like it's just me. I know I aint the only one who ever had these weird thoughts of, "are we there yet?" as I'm dropping from the sky.

Somewhere in this mindset of abject stupidity, I had the presence of mind to reach over with my right hand and pull to the left, pushing the ladder to the right and against the right wall. There's a glass coffee table directly behind me and if I go crashing back, I'm probably going to end up on that show, "1,000 Ways To Die" and be a 2016 Death Squad casualty, on account of EVERYBODY DIED IN 2016!!! However, as I finally end this Mount Everest-like free fall, I hit the carpeted floor, but it wasn't just a crash against the floor; I'm sliding like I'm at a Cardinals' game and what's more, I'm heading towards the wall. My right leg, which I was having some arthritic pain in earlier (yeah, I was just all kinds of stupid that day), gets twisted under my left leg because I'm pulling that way. My foot hits the floor and I'm now overextending, popping that bone in hip.

Now, keep in mind, I'm still falling. I haven't really landed.  The way I pulled myself, only my left hand is now on the floor in this weird slide.  The left hand and thumb and were twisted with my left palm facing left and upside down at this weird angle, with the base of the thumb the only body support that I have at this point. This means that all of my weight is on this poor thumb and I'm heading towards the wall.

"Dang," I'm thinking, "I haven't landed yet? The cosmic universe is truly messed up!"

After what seemed like the time in which I could have driven to Macon and back, I finally run out of room and hit the wall, bumping my head in the process. Not hard, mind you, but since I now rock an afro, it broke the fall.

YAY!! AFRO!! #BLACKGIRLMAGIC

Anyhoo, I think I bounced off and landed on my back. I lay there for a moment trying to comprehend what just happened. I remember thinking that I wasn't dead because the teevee's on and why in the heck would I be watching "The Maury Show?" I then tried to get up, but my body said, "no, stupid; stay where you are." My thigh, right leg, left hip and left hand are now in pain and I'm in panic mode. My daughter, who lives with me, is at work so there's no one else home. My cell is in my room, the computer is on the other side of the room, and my tablet is on the kitchen table. I'm on the fourth floor; no one else lives up here and the neighbors below me had moved out a week ago.

I'm completely incapacitated and I can't even call out for help, much less get up and go for help. 

I'm actually scared at this point. My heart is fluttering so hard I could actually hear it over the teevee. No matter how hard I tried to get up, my body was not responding. Panic was setting in and I'm afraid that I'll have a heart attack or stroke and die. My daughter is going to come in and find me like this and it'll traumatize her.  

I need to calm down. I look up at the clock; it's about 2:10 or so and the teevee is blasting one of those ambulance chaser lawyer commercials and I'm wondering how much money can I make by suing myself for being so mindboggling stupid.  Since I'm having this weird sense of humor about it, I decided to watch the show. Heck, those baby mommas were having a worse day than me right about now so I focused on that. 

Time passed and I could finally roll over onto my left side. Using my left forearm and elbow, I crawled over to the table and pushed against the couch and pulled myself up and sat down, relieved that I'm still alive. I looked up at the clock; it was now 3:00 and some other judge show was coming on. 

What freaking channel is this? 

I was shocked to realize that I had been on the floor for almost an hour. My right leg and hip aren't hurting so much so I slowly stood up and accessed the damage. Looking at my left hand, it had swollen to twice the size. The base of the thumb was red and tender. Considering that I have black palms (no, really...I do. Most black people have pink palms but mine are black. Go figure), the redness stood out.

You see that? 

Okay so yeah, that's messed up. My daughter came home about 20 minutes later so we went to the Urgent Care up the street. Here's what sucks about places like that - there was no doctor; only a nurse practitioner, who x-rayed it, charged me $30 schemolians, and told me it was sprained. She gave me a prescription and wrapped it in an ACE bandage with a splint.

This is what I got for $30 clams. The splint hurt like heck and was digging into my palm. 

Anyhoo, I walked around like this for a few days, and then went to work. For some reason, the swelling wasn't going down and I had this big bump at the base of my thumb. I decided to see my primary but they didn't have any appointments because there was a threat of a 0.00009 inch blizzard in North Georgia, so there was no bread, milk, or rice in the stores, and businesses were shutting down (oy vey). Only one doctor showed up and clinic was completely booked. I made an appointment for the following Monday.

When the doctor finally saw it, she took one look and said this wasn't a sprain, never go to an urgent care and sent me over for x-rays, which only confirmed that it wasn't broken, but there was tissue damage that it couldn't pick up. She made an appointment for me to see an orthopedist and do an MRI. The ortho confirmed that the ligaments were torn and that I would need surgery to repair them. He says this is called "skier's thumb" because this is what happens when skiers fall and land on their thumbs. He then explained that if I had waited a week longer, I would have to have a different procedure that would have put me out of work for eight months. 

I don't like having my cheedah messed with, so I was game for the surgery, which happened two days later. The Facebook live videos that I did were hilarious, especially after the beta blocker, and I won't post them here because, nah brah...I can't end up as a giphy file.  The blocker numbed up my entire arm and gave me zombie arm. I wish I hadn't done that. I was only off work for two days, so that was kind of boss. 

Here's what I looked like post surgery: Introducing - Clubber Lang cast!

It was just as comfortable as it looks, my Lovelies.

Look at how incredibly swole my fingers were...

I walked around like this for about four weeks or so. Here's what I discovered about being in a cast: As a child, it's awesome, except for the itching.  As an adult, this sucks monkey butt; the itching is even worse. What really made this horrible is this post surgical cast was so heavy that it became mobile as the swelling decreased and I was so miserable. My arm was sliding around in that thing and rubbing against the skin on my hand. I wanted to Kunta Kinte my whole arm, but I figured this was a little extreme and I was being overly emotional, so I put the machete back under the pillow.

Four weeks later, Clubber Lang cast was taken off. Here's what my hand looked like; behold - Frankenscar!

I actually cried.

I was told that it wouldn't always look like this, and then I got this cute number! I wanted Cardinal red. Well, I actually wanted "cheetah" but they didn't have that one so I settled for this one.

I wrapped it in an ACE because it rained that day and I couldn't get it wet. I kept it like this during the four week duration.

Words can't express how sucky it was to be in a cast. I couldn't do anything; tying up shoes, picking up things with both hands. I couldn't even put on an over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder without help. I was completely incapacitated. 

It was cute for a few days but as the weeks went on, the itching only worsened. I could stick a little metal thingy down inside, but when the incision site itched, I could do nothing but pat it down. 

So finally, the Redbird cast came off and then I was fitted with a splint from the physical therapy folx. Except...it looked like this:

My physical therapist is awesome, but again, no one had cheetah. I'm all arts and crafty and stuff, so I made a cozi.

Cute, huh?

So, here I am three months post surgery. I'm still in physical therapy, I have lots of mobility in the left hand but not a whole lot of strength. I do have numbness on the entire left side of my thumb, and the tip isn't as flexible. I'm still working with the therapist and hope to gain 100% usage again.

Here's what I look like now:

Very not bad. It could have been worse, and for that I count my blessings. I'm back to writing, albeit slowly. I hope to have at least three books by June because I'm participating in a Con in June; the details to come soon. 

I was of the attitude that those curtains still need to be hung. As time and physical therapy have gone on, I've had to rethink this. I don't want to be in a cast ever again. I may have to pay somebody...

...or wait until I'm not home alone and so dumb about it. We'll see.

Well, it's time for me to roll, bounce and get some stuff done. I'll holla soon!

~me~