Just a week ago I broke my arm. I fell smack on the point of my shoulder. The humerus broke at a place called the surgical neck. No separation, no cast. Hooray! I was in the hospital two days, because the pain could not be controlled (and I’m one tough old lady!). The made sure I could walk and climb stairs, had someone to take care of me at home, knew my patient rights, could manage clothes…..they never made sure the sling was on properly!
I still was a ball of misery when Beth brought me home, where she had a front button gown waiting to replace the ankle length flannel that tripped me up and sent me down, and which must be cut off. Linda called. The weaver of beautiful rugs and former psychiatric nurse. You don’t get anything over on her!
“Don’t even think about a bra!” she thundered. As if I could move enough to even get it on and comfortable. But I did not like as much loose anatomy as mine rubbing around. “Go to the Dollar Store; get men’s’ muscle shirts, three to a pack. Just step in, get it pulled up, tuck it up under the boobs!” Easier said, but my personal assistants got it done.
I had a shower Sunday evening, and my personal assistants constructed my attire:
Grey sweats (pride goeth before the fall of the woman who owns no pants without zippers!)
Men’s muscle shirt from the dollar store.
A turtleneck from my closet.
The yellow plaid night shirt Beth made appear overnight from Woolrich.
My front zip hoodie around my shoulders.
“I look like a Wallmart person,” I lamented.
“No, no visible thong,” my sister replied.
I had to report to the orthopedic doctor Tuesday afternoon. Save clean underwear, my costume was unchanged. Oh, well.
The doctor’s assistant was a most dour thirty something. She was all business, no smile. After the preliminary computer work, she handed me a gown.
“That won’t happen,” I said.
“But the doctor…”
“It won’t happen. I am not going through the pain of un and redressing for anyone.”
“How did you get dressed this morning?”
“I haven’t been “dressed” since Sunday. No gown!”
“You’ll have to take that up with the doctor,” she sniffed, and left.
Half a magazine later, the doctor came in. “Here, let me adjust that sling properly!”
The pain in my shoulder diminished by half!
Back in a week for new x-rays. One week gone, seven to go!