Wednesday, January 19, 2011

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!!!







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