Well Shit.....

This experience has had a lot of "firsts". 

When I signed up I knew I'd do my first real push up, run my first full mile... I've done my first 20km+ bike ride, I've started my first blog...

And I broke my first bone!

On the weekend I broke my hand...trying to do a friggen cartwheel. 

I mean really.... COME ON!

Seriously though, it hurt. 

A lot. 

I thought I just sprained it initially, and I actually thought it was a wrist injury not my hand. I've never done a cartwheel before. I tried something new and I failed. I could just say oh ya I was doing cartwheels and landed funny oops. But when someone asks "OH SHIT what did you do to your hand?!" I shrug and say "I tried to do a cartwheel and it didn't go so well". I'm actually impressed with myself for trying so hard I broke my hand. I went all in - figured k if I'm going to launch my legs into the air and over my head I'll probably need some force behind it. If not, I'd end up doing the same dizzy-drunk somersault flail I usually end up in when trying to cartwheel in the past. 

It happened Saturday night. I iced it. I wrapped it in a tensor bandage and continued on with my weekend. Sunday morning I was achey but ok, didn't pay much attention to it. See we were at our friends' place in Alliston and since I had never broken a bone before I had no idea whether I was actually in as much pain as I thought or if I was just being a baby. I shrugged it off, accepted everyones words of encouragement, and moved on. 

Sunday I saw my mom and she had a different opinion. She didn't like how swollen it was and suggested I see a doctor if it continues. My Dad said I should go get X-rays because it could be broken. I said it was unlikely because I could move my fingers and it didn't hurt enough anymore to be broken.

I woke up Monday morning (yesterday) in the worst pain thus far. 

Either I wrapped it way too loosely or I slept on it but more bruising was showing up and the swelling, though it had subsided a bit thanks to ice, was back with a vengeance. So I decided I'd make an appointment for "sometime this week" and "hopefully everything will be fine"

I got lucky and saw a doctor at my office at 9am yesterday. I had left work (I start at 730) thinking "yeah I just have a doctor's appointment no problem - brb!" but I didn't get back until 3:00!!!!

I waited a lot yesterday, in several different rooms and chairs. I got asked the same set of questions more times than felt necessary and I met a lot of people equally as embarrassed as I was to be suffering a silly playtime injury. 

It doesn't really matter exactly where I sat or for how long. I got referred to Emerg by my family doctor and was there most of the day. I hated being there, I felt sick, grossed out, spooked. I hate surgeries and blood work and needles. It makes me want to cry when I see people in pain, worse if it's kids. The number of seniors there reminded me quickly of Nonno and his time in the hospital. I had a moment while I was sitting in Urgent Care and realized "shit, Nonno's last conscious thought was in a room like this, surrounded by a whole bunch of people waiting to find out what's wrong with them". I didn't want to think about it and luckily I was interrupted by my name being called. 

I was greeted by a friendly, smiley, pleasant nurse. 

I understand nurses play an especially challenging role in the emergency care area(s) of the hospital and I totally empathize with how insanely stressful their jobs must be, but I was so happy to see a smile that I thanked her for her kindness. I made sure to point out that I know its not easy to stay light in a role like that and I thanked her for brightening my day. She seemed to appreciate the gratitude. 

When I moved to the next waiting chair I sat next to a little girl. 

She was about 6, and had hurt her neck on the trampoline. She was so poised and articulate for her age. She was with her Nana (who couldn't have been much older than my own mum) and we all chatted. Alissa showed me her stuffed turtle named Rosie, and her Shopkins. She listed all the characters she's collected and asked if I had a daughter who liked Shopkins too. I explained that my babies were my dog and two cats and showed her pictures. She asked her Nana "Hey Nan, could I please use your phone to show her Zoe?" and she showed me a picture of her little dog saying "come on, isn't she just the cutest little thing?" We were interrupted by the Doctor who came to give Alissa and her Nana the results of her Xray and watching this little girl listen to the doctor even though he spoke mostly to her grandmother left me in awe. When she was dismissed from the hospital she shook my hand and I thanked her for brightening my day - she said you're welcome I hope your hand feels better and I smiled. 

3 hours later I walked out of the hospital with a plaster cast and a recovery time of 3-6 weeks. I learned it wasn't my wrist but in fact a main - though small - bone in my hand between my thumb socket and pointer finger. The second metacarpal bone in my left hand broke. I looked at the Xray and got to see the break, identified by very fine stepping visible in the bottom third of the bone. That explains the crack I heard when I fell... In 3 weeks I follow up at the fracture clinic to get another x-ray and better cast. 

So how bout that Tough Mudder training, eh?

Well, this itself is a test of pain tolerance and mental grit right? I broke my left hand so I still can write and paint just fine. I'm typing this one-handed because moving my fingers on my left hand isn't recommended - that and I can't lay my wrist flat anyway so its easier with one hand. I won't be able to bike much - if at all, upper body training is going to be pretty lopsided and yoga is going to be tricky when it comes to any poses that involve holding myself up with my hands.

But I can't just give up. I have to keep at it. 

So this week I'm getting used to having this cement block at the end of my arm. I'm finding out what I can do without hurting myself and what I definitely shouldn't. Then its time to get back. I can run - no excuses there (darn). I can do yoga as long as I either skip or find variations of poses that require pressing my hand to the ground. I don't think biking is a great idea unless it's leisurely around the neighbourhood but it's something. 

If I break my streak of activity entirely it'll be THAT much harder to come back to it in July. I only have 3 full months left before the Tough Mudder in September, I need to make the most of that time and prove to myself I can do it - broken hand or not.