On Monday morning I slipped in my bathroom and broke my left arm. I am not sure what I was doing except brushing my teeth, about to take a shower, and then planning to take the kids to school. Instead, while I was naked, I slipped off the stair to our bathtub and broke my fall with my left arm. My arm buckled- and as I held my deformed limb I yelled to my 9 year old son for help. I knew it was broken and that I needed to go to the ER, so somehow I dressed myself and layed my broken arm across our bed to elevate and splint it. My son was scared and tearful and I was in pain. I yelled at him for help and he was in a panic. I was not at my best, the pain was on par with childbirth. But somehow he called Greg and we all tried to get through the next 15 minutes until my husband could come home from the hospital to take me to the hospital. It was hard. But lucky.
Now I sit 4 days later trying to keep my splinted, swollen arm elevated. The bone was re-set and so far surgery has been averted. I am resting and staying still and hoping the worst is past. I am trying to figure out how I will get through these next weeks. I am sad. I am fearful.
But in my sadness I try to remember that so far I am lucky. Lucky that just my arm broke. Lucky Henry could help and call his Dad. Lucky that I have all the support I have to try to figure out the next few weeks. As everything about my routine and my daily life changed in an instant, I am trying to be present in this moment and not wish to fast forward 6 weeks.
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