The Elbow Diaries: Challenge accepted.

Roughly 3 weeks ago, I decided to get a bright and early start to my day. Early bird gets the worm. Plus, I've read all these articles from Harvard Business Review about how the most effective people start their days early and get work done before other people even begin. So at 6 a.m. I gleefully skipped off to Starbucks. Okay, I didn't skip. I walked and walked carefully at that.

However, my careful steps were ineffective. I slipped on some ice and very gracefully landed on my butt. A kind person crossing the street called out to me, "Are you okay?"

...and I replied how every human being does unless your bone is poking through your skin: "I'm fine!!"

When he reached the other side of the street, this kind man actually crossed back over to me. "You haven't gotten up yet so I actually don't think you're fine." I had planned to rest a little on the ice/didn't actually know if I could get up just yet, so I was taking a break.

"Yes, it kind of hurts a little," I admitted. Fortunately, he helped me up, and I very appropriately answered his question when he asked if I fell on my hip. "Nope, just my butt. Y'know. Good stuff." He waited with me till I assured him again, "Thanks so much--really, I'm fine, but thank you."

(By the way, Julie pointed the following out to me...

...it's likely this kind sir was married...and not as cute as he appeared given the spots I was seeing, but hey, a girl can dream of living out a rom com.)

At this point, I was on my feet and approximately 250 feet away from Starbucks, if that. (I only live about 400 feet from it--clearly this was a long trek.) Sure, my vision might have been a little blurry, but I didn't hit my head so I wasn't very concerned. As long as I made it into the 'bucks without passing out in the crosswalk I would be okay.

Challenge accepted.

Once in Starbucks (yes, I made it), I let my vision return to normal, so I could see the beauty that was my drink, and I walked, even more carefully, home.

When I got home, I went to pick up my coffee with my left hand and discovered a dilemma: my hand did not appear to work. I couldn't pick anything up/hold anything, and so I ended up taking off the day and enjoying House of Cards with a stack of peas on my arm. I ordered sushi and eventually caved and took some painkillers.

I love our pillows.

Fast forward to the following week: I have been showing off my arm's strength and flexibility to my roommate on a regular basis. Look! I can carry my phone! I can hold a dish! WOW--I can almost touch my face with my hand!

My arm decides it does not want to work? Challenge accepted. I will make you work. I will will you to be strong.

At trivia on Wednesday night, a week since my fall, I proudly showed how my arm was nearly 97% straight (though Emily said it was only 95%). I managed to put on eyeliner that day, because MY HAND COULD TOUCH MY FACE. My willpower worked.

Does this look like the face of someone in pain? #sixdegreesofselfie

I did agree with friends and family that if my arm still would not straighten by the weekend I would go to the doctor. While I think straightening my arm is important, I still cannot figure out for what purposes I need to be able to do so. Sure my professional gymnastics career is now out, but other than that, will a crooked arm impede my future?

Friday finally arrived, and I sadly trudged to an immediate care center to get my arm checked out. I will spare the details, but I cried and swore a fair amount during my x-rays. This did confirm that it was a good thing that I went to the doctor; I'm not a crier, but ouch. I went home with a diagnosis of a bad sprain and a suggested small fracture on my elbow. The technician outfitted me in an ace bandage and sling which he attested made me look tough and cool.

You should see the other guy...

So I took it easy and followed up with the doctor come Wednesday. I should note here that I am actually not a terrible patient, but I do need clear parameters on what I can and cannot do.

For example, if a doctor tells me, "You can move your arm a little," I hear that as, "Rhythmic gymnastics and frisbee are okay."

If a doctor says, "Wear your sling as often as possible," I hear that to mean, "Your sling looks great on the doorknob, but you should maybe wear it sometimes."

I don't do "gray" when it comes to doctor directions. Give me black and white. Give me directives. Tell me what to do.

Wednesday's call took away the gray. While I stared at my sling sitting on my dining room table, the technician told me, "You should be wearing your sling pretty much 24/7 and not moving your elbow." Clearly, I had intended to put it back on...

"...Oh, so stretching my arm and elbow, not a good idea?" It's not like I was stretching my arm or anything...

"Nope. You have a fractured elbow. It needs to be still."

"Mhmm...so I should go back to the doctor then soon?" You mean, I can't will my arm back to normal?

"Yes, you'll likely need physical therapy, and the doctor will need to check your arm out."

I drank wine in bed and felt a little sad the next day.

Okay, okay, I see what you're saying.
I need to be a big kid and go back to the doctor.
Challenge accepted.
(The quotes from my mom above also reminded me not to be such a baby and make an appointment.)

So I went back to the doctor today. The weather is beautiful which means I finally was able to make this sling look a little cool (ignore my dirty hair).

We're hitting the 3-week mark, and I still can't straighten my arm.
I think it's a cool character trait. The crooked arm girl.

I relayed my story to the doctor (and a brief medical history)--she laughed as I hoped she would, and when I finished she said, "So what I'm gathering from your story is that your assessment of pain is extremely inaccurate."

I admitted, that yes, perhaps my understanding of pain is somewhat skewed. I can always rationalize my pain. One arm hurts? Well it could be two--or both my arms AND my legs.

Also, on a scale of 1-10, when cancer was a 3, nothing ever is that bad.

So, on Wednesday, I head to an orthopedic surgeon, and well, I just hope I really don't need surgery. I made a comment a couple weekends ago about how I sometimes have a "dark gloomy cloud" effect on life. While I try 99% of the time to be sunshine-y, that damn cloud sometimes follows me!

However, dear gloomy cloud, challenge accepted. I know I'm not good at admitting I'm in pain or being patient with myself when I'm sick or hurt. I also know I suck at asking for help, so, challenge accepted. Although, really if we could bypass anything involving needles, that would be great.

So, do what you wanna do lovely little cloud; I'm going to spray some windex on my arm and drink half a bottle of brandy.

♥a

P.S. I started drawing too. (You can click on them to see them bigger--if you really want to see my artistic non-skills.)