Simplicity

I don't know. Maintaining a daily post in the heat of crisis allows you to express yourself in the moment, but going back may be irrelevant retrospect. It does soften the memories that I thought would be burnished in my mind forever. I am healing daily so I guess this is the lesson of childbirth that either fortunately or unfortunately I never partook of. Oh...why slings and not casts? The fracture location prohibits casting and the humerus just has to 'hang' for weeks so the fractures align and heal. Obviously no movement can occur or bone rubs against bone. Let me tell you - that is PAINNNNNNN!!! The R fracture is worse, jagged with a tuberosity projecting into my muscle. The L fracture is a clean break but the swelling and bruising is significant. After about 10 days Craig yells 'Stigmata' in the shower - an angel has appeared on my arm. We have a good laugh and take a picture. I later find out the muscle in my arm is probably torn because the pain and bruising escalates for weeks. Oh yes, another tidbit. I may have torn rotator cuffs (require surgery) which is only apparent after therapy. If you can lift your extended arm above your shoulder - you are good. Otherwise it's under the knife I go. By now I am immune to these problems. I did realize early on how insignificant this injury is. There are amputees and quad/paraplegics out there and I know I can rehabilitate, so no wah wah for me. There are good days, whiny days and as long as I don't have to listen to the few egocentric friends that we have who are oblivious to anyone but themselves - I'm good. Question: do I come clean with them?

San Diego. Now I have to worry about that. Being out of the comfort of my surroundings, away from my Dr's., in the traffic that I hate and unwillingness to see friends that I had planned on. I look terrible though Craig has really gotten the hang of my ponytail. I have one outfit that I wear: pull on velour pants and a zip up sweater. Will I ever get into my treasured turtlenecks again? I carry around this little Indonesian woven purse my friend Claudia gifted me years ago that now has more relevance than ever. Lightweight, it carries my drivers license, $5, chapstick, and my phone. And of course the good healthcare professional that I am, all my written health detail / instructions are included and those of course are also in my cellphone (hint).

Tuesday AM (1 day post CT) I get a call from my primary care provider, A Physician's Assistant (PA-C). She is a superb diagnostician and I've been very impressed with her care. The arm CT scan showed interstitial pneumonitis, that will now require a lung CT - scheduled out 3 weeks. I immediately look this up online and link it to the immune system problems I've suffered from the last 4 years - though I'm also an ex-smoker. Freakout #2 goes into high gear as I have had this pleurisy like discomfort for months (in denial) and it never seemed relevant to the rheumatologist that I've seen. I don't want to do too much online research or I'll go into high panic and I don't need this now. FYI, healthcare reform requires increased use of ancillary providers that include PA's, Nurse Practitioners and RN's with advanced degrees. To absorb healthcare costs, increase the level/quality of primary care, and reserve advanced diagnostics to specialists (e.g. board certified) medicine (e.g. the AMA) and the American public needs acceptance of these providers in our society, and financing should be provided to develop their numbers, or we are in a shitload of trouble. Baby Boomers meet Medicare. In all the healthcare debate which I followed closely, there were only snipets of this suggestion. Soapbox #3.

I table this latest problem and deal with The Trip. If I don't watch it my anxiety gets the better of me. I can't focus on packing because there is nothing I need beyond The Outfit, The Purse and The Tennis Shoes. Stupidly I do insist on a few extras that occupy nothing but wasted space. Craig has to schlep 2 bags, his briefcase, my laptop all with aplomb. I am double checked by TSA (arm slings), which I don't care about - they are just doing their job. An older couple following me, who appear educated and well traveled, have one of those steel briefcases that upon inspection, reveals liquids, bottled water, pocket knife etc. The woman feigns ignorance stating she just doesn't know what the rules are anymore, they change so frequently. Her husband, who appears to have some kind of mental deficit, innocently states they hoped these items would go undetected. The brilliant answer by a kind, patient and tested TSA bloke - "Well ma'am, Bellingham just sets the standard for restrictions and you are flying at the highest level of safety possible". Don't you love it.

The trip is without incident though I'm paranoid as hell. People want to stare and think WTF, probably also wonder if I'm a victim of domestic abuse (poor Craig) and in general, look away. We use a wheelchair in San Diego which Craig insists on and make it to the car pick up OK. The day has been long and I force him to drive surface streets the 15 miles to his sisters. I should have taken an Ativan.