I don't do windows

Do you have a nickname?

I do.

My daughter, Abbie has given me one.

She calls me Little Arm.

  Unusual, I know for someone 

who sports Oprah-like arms.

There is a story behind this title.

It stems from an incident

a couple of summers ago.

On Saturday I had washed the siding

and scrubbed the porches.

We went to church that evening

because Stu had to bale hay the next morning.

I got up early Sunday morning.

I wanted to wash windows.

They had been splashed by all the siding grunge.

I was on a roll. 

I had music going and was kicking rear.

My windows in the front room

and Stu's office are wide. 

They are 44" wide.

They are 1/4 and 3/4, rather than double hung.

They tilt in so that is great but,

the bottom section is so deep 

you can't reach it and hold it.

I was putting it on a chair back 

so I could reach it all. 

The top is easy.

I was on my last window. 

This exact window I just posted.

I was standing on the desk

but couldn't reach it all.

I stepped down on the office chair. 

It was a swivel chair on a hardwood floor.

OOPS!

I flew back and sideways and crashed.

I landed on my left shoulder. 

I knew I was in trouble.

I had to focus.

I drug myself up and felt crooked.

I went for my phone.

I grabbed my cell, went back to the couch

turning the fan when I went by it. 

I was sweating and about to puke.

I called Stu and no answer. 

Then I called Maggie.

She answered and I asked

"Whatcha doing?"

She said "eating at Steak and Shake,

 we've been to church."

I asked her to try her dad again,

I had fallen and gotten hurt.

Two seconds later he calls.

He had no truck, just a tractor, 

the neighbor guy had to go get him.

We went to the local hospital.

They did the x-ray and cat scan.

The guy on call said you will have to go see a surgeon in Decatur.

You have broken your shoulder.

I bawled the whole way home. 

Who was going to babysit my grand babies?

Aubrie was 3, Everett was just 1.

I slept in the recliner and Stu slept on the couch.

I couldn't get in to the surgeon on Monday

so Tuesday we got an appointment.

I got disappointing news.

Surgery.

 My shoulder was pretty busted up.

They did the surgery the next day.

I came home the next.

No movement for 4 weeks.

I got some hardware, still do.

I slept in a hospital bed

in the living room for a month.

Not once did Stuart go upstairs.

He stayed on that couch, even though 

I told him I would be fine.

He was a great nurse.

He hired a cleaning lady.

He cooked, and he helped me bathe.

 He would shave the good arm's underarm. 

The other I couldn't raise.

He was (is) awesome.

We found a lady to keep the grandkids

on the days I usually had them.

After a month, I started therapy.

The doctor said if I could raise it to my waist,

he considered it a success.

What?

No way!

The first session, I prayed scripture 

in my head the whole time. 

It was so painful.

I worked hard, and man, it was hard.

I couldn't drive for 9 weeks, 

but my buddies/family were great. 

They visited, brought meals,

took me to therapy,

to lunch and anywhere I needed to go.

After 15 weeks, I was released.

I can put my arm straight up beside my head.

I can reach behind to my bra line.

My deltoid atrophied a lot. 

I have built it up,

but it just isn't the same as the other.

I don't have as much  strength as I did. 

I can't lift as well as I used to,

but hey, I'm no little arm!!!