Thursday, April 9

No Cuddle Parties, No Spooning & No Hand-Holding.

The Broken Elbow Quadrilogy - Part IV.

Life around the house with a gimp is interesting at best, and it also allows you to re-evaluate your privileges and not take so many things for granted.

If you can walk upright, use all of your limbs in tandem and not spend every waking moment in either unbearable pain or a pilled-up stupor, you need to remember that you’re better off than a lot of people out there. The next time you run out to the mailbox in the pouring rain, cursing and complaining the whole way, remember that there’s someone out there who would gladly shoot someone in the face for that ability. This is also just a minor and temporary injury, which optimistically reminds you of how much worse it could have been.

As is always the case, it’s the little things that count. Last night, the pizza guy rang our doorbell while I was on the phone, and I silently gestured to the Missus to take care of it for me, completely forgetting that an 18-inch “Garden Of Eat’n” pie from Rocky Rococo’s with a 2-liter of Pepsi would probably be a little out of her range of motion.

Breadsticks and marinara sauce? Perhaps, but I wasn’t about to take chances.

In the bedroom, there is a stack of pillows in between me and her where she needs to rest her arm while she sleeps. No cuddle parties, no spooning, not even hand-holding. It goes without saying that Spring has gotten off to a somewhat frigid start at CDP Headquarters. Not to let you too far into my intimate lifestyle or anything, but the second that her arm is back to 100%, there’s a good chance it might end up broken again for completely different reasons.

The other day, I called her from work and told her to write me a grocery list, so I could go shopping without having to make her come along. I had forgotten that her broken elbow was attached to the arm that she likes to write with, so when I stepped into the kitchen, I was greeted with a list of foodstuffs that, to me, had been written by a epileptic three-year-old. It was the perfect childhood balance of trying extremely hard to write legibly, all while faced with the undeniable truth that you’re just not there yet from a developmental sense.

In the end, what has been reinforced the most from this accident is my love and respect for the Missus. She’s strong, fearless, does things around the house that I tend to forget about, and I can’t wait to see her back to her normal self. She’s also looking forward to skating again, too, which means that she must really be serious about this Roller Derby venture. Good for her, but I absolutely forbid it unless she remembers to protect herself during the next outing.

Mostly, I’d just like her to get around to hugging me again, but hey, one day at a time.


So I take it you give me the go-ahead to buy full safety gear? ;)
What would be worse after she is healed -- she re-brake her arm or you brake, er, something else in the getting it on period.
HATHERY - This venture is going to bankrupt me eventually, so...yes.

HOSS - I'll take my chances with the latter at this point in the season.
I broke my foot a couple of months before our wedding. On our cat. For about six weeks I spent all my time at home in our bedroom because it was too hard to get up and down our crazy steep steps and our only bathroom is upstairs. All that time in the bedroom and absolutely no spooning of any kind. Bonus: I got to start my new job on crutches carrying the only backpack I own, which happens to be from junior high; it's purple and has my initials sewn on it. I felt like a winner.

Glad to hear you're nearly healed now, Hathery!
I've known quite a few people who broke feet/ankles/legs tripping over their cats. I'm surprised that myself or Ryan have not done it yet--our cats are world-class feet circlers.
Cats are from Duke.
Not our cats!
Our cats go to the most prestigious school of all: Meowington University

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