I felt great. My wife and I hiked all summer, and I got plenty of exercise in the garden. I thought I was invincible.
The ivy that covered the back of the garage had bugged me for a long time. One day I decided to stop procrastinating. I would remove the invasive plants. I got my work gloves, some pliers, and a screwdriver.
English ivy is tough. The stems are like tough rope and it can be very difficult to pry them off brick. The roots are even worse. They penetrate deep into the ground and they seem to be interconnected with hundreds of other plants. To complicate matters, a thick layer of leaves covered the ground behind the garage. The leaves masked hidden dangers that included rocks, large chunks of concrete, and stumps.
I began. At first I used the screwdriver to pry off individual ivy plants but the pliers proved to be more useful. I tore plant after plant off the wall.
I realized that I needed to get the roots out also. I grabbed a bunch of ivy and yanked. Nothing happened. These things were well anchored. I managed to pull several out and then I decided I should pull one plant at a time.
I grabbed hold of an ivy plant with a stem as thick as a broomstick (or so it seemed in the heat of the moment). I pulled several times and it didn’t budge. I rolled up my sleeves and pulled with all my might.
The next few minutes seemed like they would never end.
The ivy stem broke and my body flew backwards. I stumbled over hidden stumps and rocks. I knew that if I fell straight back I might land on my head. As my wife will tell you, I am hard-headed but I don’t have a thick enough cranium to protect it against a chunk of concrete.
As I soared through the air I twisted in an effort to see where I would land. I managed to get both hands down but my shoulder hit something hard with the full weight of my body behind it.
As I made contact I heard and felt a pop. Indescribable pain shot through my shoulder and arm, and I leaped to my feet. I began to dance like a dervish, flailing my arms, hopping and spinning until I ended up on the lawn. Somehow my upper arm bone popped back into the socket.
I lay on the grass for about five minutes regaining my senses. Sweat poured down my face and the cool autumn air felt great. I stood up on shaky legs.
I can’t believe that human beings can be so dumb. Look at me, I’m supposed to be Pliny the Elder, and guess what I did next?
I decided to finish pulling the ivy off the garage. I walked up to the garage, determined not to let a stupid plant defeat me. I raised my left arm to grab a vine. As soon as my hand rose above my waist I heard and felt the pop again. This time it seemed even louder.
I sprinted away from the garage. My field of vision began to narrow and I felt that I would black out for sure. I waved my arms and screamed in silent agony. Finally I collapsed onto the grass and mercifully the ball of my humerus snapped back into the socket.
I stood and looked at my right hand in wonder. I held the pliers in a death grip. I couldn’t believe that I survived.
I decided to leave the damn ivy for another day.
Now what do you think I should have done next? I know what an intelligent person would do. He or she would go to the Emergency Room of a hospital to find out if there was any damage.
What did I do? Of course I did not do the intelligent thing.
Like a would be tough guy I went out and bantered with the men who are doing construction work on our house. Blah, blah, blah, look at me. I fell down and who cares.
My wife came home and she suggested that I go to the ER.
Nah, I’ll be fine. A good night’s sleep and it will heal by tomorrow morning.
The next morning I looked at myself in the mirror. I saw a haggard face and bloodshot eyes. I looked like the hunchback of Notre Dame, swaying with my left arm hanging limply at my side.
I dropped my wife off at the station and returned home. Should I or shouldn’t? Do I really need to go to the hospital? It did make that popping sound. Maybe that means there is a problem. Duh!
Using my good arm I fixed breakfast, washed the dishes and cleaned up. I walked over to the ER and checked myself in.
I looked at all the other patients in the ER and shook my head. Too bad for them, they have real injuries and illnesses. I probably just bruised my shoulder. I’m wasting everyone’s time. But it does hurt like hell so I guess I was right to get it looked at.
The check in process was efficient and quick. Soon I sat on a bed waiting for a doctor. My first visitor was a Physician Assistant trainee. She wrote everything down after listening to my long winded story. A few minutes later a Physician’s Assistant examined me. He seemed like a good guy. He sent me off to get an X-ray.
Now I’m back on the bed. Sitting and staring into space. Why oh why did I pull that damn vine so hard? Why didn’t I blow the leaves away so I could see all the deadly trip hazards? Why am I such an idiot?
The PA returned. “You have a fractured shoulder. An orthopedic surgeon is on the way to see you,”he said.
Great. I was shocked. Stupidly I thought that once the arm popped back in the socket that I would be fine. Hah! Life is never simple.
They sent me to get a CT scan. I don’t know if you have ever laid on your side on a table with a newly fractured shoulder as a technician pushes and pulls your body. I hope you never have the misfortune of that experience. You know how they ask you how your pain rates on a scale of one to ten. I put that pain at a googolplex (the largest number with a name).
Anyway the surgeon sees the result of the scan. “Guess what?” he tells me. “A piece of the socket broke off when you dislocated your humerus (upper arm bone).” He gave me a sling and brace and had me promise to keep my shoulder and left arm immobile and to come see him in a week.
Needless to say “Week One of the Broken Shoulder,”was not a joyful experience. Guess what? When you do something stupid like this to your shoulder you can’t sleep in an ordinary bed. No that would be dangerous. What if I rolled over on my shoulder or even worse, I might fling my arm out and up while dreaming. Anyway, in order to prevent any damaging movement I got to sleep in a chair, my old blue recliner.
Oh what joy, sleeping in a chair. Anyway I made it through the first week.
Today I saw the surgeon again. What a great guy. He explains everything and I am eager to get my sling off and get back to my gardening and yard work.
“Not so fast,” he says. You have two more weeks of sleeping on the recliner and then six more weeks in the sling and brace.
“Can I go hiking then with my backpack?” I ask.
The surgeon shakes his head. He tells me that is when the hard work will begin.
Damn that ivy!
I hope I have learned from this experience. Take it slow and easy. Always be aware of possible hazards that might cause you to fall. You are not invincible, no one is.
Do not take one minute, one hour, or one day for granted. You never know what fate has in store for you.
Stay tuned for Chapter Two.