My blog has been dormant or a while now. 2017 has been the busiest and most life changing since I moved to Maryland. I bought a house, moved my mom (and
her our dog) in with me to work through some serious health issues, and most recently, broke my collarbone in a stupid dog walking accident.
We usually race alongside fences with other dogs we’ve met in the neighborhood. On this particular day, Lucky decided he was determined to beat the young pit bull that challenged him. I had a bad feeling when I noticed the cloud of dirt that billowed up from behind the pit, but it didn’t even dawn on me that I wouldn’t be able to keep up. Lucky barreled down the concrete sidewalk and his retractable leash spilled out from the handle in my hand. I started to run as fast as I could, but eventually felt the end of the leash yank from my hand. I flew forward, stumbled a bit and planted on my right side. I never let go of the leash.
I laid there in the hot morning sun and tried to assess the damage. It hurt. My eye and head throbbed. I reached up to touch my eye. Blood. Lots of blood. I stood up and it trickled down my face and into my sportsbra like a river. But, I could walk.
At first I walked up the neighbors steps thinking I would ask them for some tissue and maybe try and see how bad it was. But in a new neighborhood, imagining myself as a 6ft, 3in., strange black woman dripping blood all over their lovely porch, I thought better of it.
I could feel my eye closing and started to walk home. We were only a few blocks away after all. Of course Lucky tried stopping to sniff and mark his territory like any other walk. When we made it home, I calmly said to my mother, “I need you to stay calm. I fell. There’s a lot of blood. I’m okay, but I need to go to the emergency room.” She looked at me and did the initial mother gasp, but did stay calm and began to call friends on my emergency contact list to see who could take me to the hospital. By that time, my eye was completely closed.
I was expecting the worst when I walked upstairs to take a look at my face. Please don’t let my eye be damaged. Please don’t let me need stitches. I looked in the mirror. Blood had pooled and began coagulating in my eye socket. There was blood caked in my hair and along my temple, and of course all over my chest and on my legs. I looked pretty bad ass. Once I cleaned off, I could open my eye. There was no huge scar, but the hole in my eyebrow was pretty deep and wouldn’t stop bleeding.
When I went to take off my shirt and sportsbra….holy effing hell! Hot shooting pain in my shoulder. Dammit, I broke my shoulder. Having broken my right arm twice, there was absolutely no mistaking the searing pain in a broken bone that renders the affected limb absolutely useless.
My friend Amy picked me up and drove me downtown to Hopkins. The nurses and triage doc all had sympathetic eyes and some chuckled when I shared the story. I hoped my shoulder was only dislocated, but I knew better. Shortly after dressing my wounds and getting x-rays, my fears were confirmed. It was a non-operable displaced clavicle fracture. Oh, and I needed one stitch.
It’s a week and a half later. I am in a sling, but I can draw and use my arm minimally. My black eye is finally starting to fade and the numbing pain in my head is subsiding. The first week was spent binge watching HULU and Netflix. The pain hasn’t been too terrible. I tossed the prescription for oxycodone and eased the pain with Tylenol and sleep. I’ve probably been overdoing it these days. As the primary caretaker in the house, I still have to cook, and keep things moderately clean. I’m hoping to be able to cut my grass by this weekend, but we’ll see. The doctor says that in some cases this type of fracture doesn’t heal and the patient is left with two floating ends of a clavicle. I’ll be getting a second opinion if that is the case.