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Sounds ominous, doesn’t it? Distal Radius Fracture and Repair. In the case of this blog post, it just means that I broke my wrist, and then had it put back together with hardware that I’ll wear for the rest of my life.

surgery 3
All ready for surgery – check out the neat little blue cap they gave me! That white speck on my nose is the tape holding the glass replacement-piercing in place.

It’s been about three and a half months since I broke my wrist. I’ve been trying to write some blog posts about the event, including a post about how to help a friend who’s had surgery, but for some reason, the writing hasn’t come. Oh, I have had lots of starts and lots of ideas and lots of information, but I’ve been reluctant to write it all down and then hit that publish button. I do have some thoughts as to why I’ve been hesitant, including that I don’t want to write about my own vulnerability, that I don’t want to write about what happens when someone disappoints you when they’ve offered to help and then aren’t available when you need them, that I don’t want to acknowledge that I’m not Super Woman and can’t do everything anymore, that I don’t want to write about what happens when you know your life as you know it has changed. But truthfully, I don’t really know exactly why the words are coming so disjointedly, and until now, I haven’t thought about it too much; I have just moved on to the next thing, the next topic, the next publish button.

surgery 4
Dr. Jacobs is a hand specialist and apparently one of the best around this area… and I just lucked into him!

Maybe it’s time to just go ahead and write about it. And get it over with. This is bound to be a bit wordy. I’ve added some photos, too, so maybe that’ll help with all the words.

So on that note, here’s some information about the radius, that bone I broke. And then there’s a whole bunch of words that’s me trying to tell the story that’s in my head as best I can. With pictures.

The radius is one of the bones of the forearm; if you are holding your arm out in front of you, with your elbow tucked to your side, with the palm facing down to the ground or floor, it’s the bone nearest your body, on the same side of your arm as your thumb. It’s also apparently the most-fractured bone in the body. “In the United States, one out of every 10 broken bones is a broken wrist.” according to webmd.com. Considering there are 270 bones in the body at birth, that “one out of every ten” adds up to a lot of broken wrists.

cropped radiusThe most common way to break your wrist is to fall with your hand outstretched. In my case, when I fell down, I hit the outside of my arm (which is the ulna) in the bark dust adjacent to the sidewalk. I scraped up my knees and elbows on the concrete, but it was the wrist that bore the brunt of my injuries. The funny part of this is that I was walking to my car heading out to the local China Panda to get some (yummy and tasty) orange chicken for a friend who had just had a knee replacement and couldn’t drive yet.

After I fell, I picked myself up, and thinking I might have just sprained it, continued on to my car, got in, used my left hand to put the key in and turn it, and to put the transmission in gear, and then drove to the Walgreens next door to the China Panda and bought an Ace bandage, which I then wound around my wrist. I walked next door, ordered the food, got back in my car and drove back to my friend’s house, where I sat at her table with an ice pack on my wrist, and then drove back “home” (actually the home of friend where I was house/dog/cat-sitting for the weekend). By the next morning, however, I knew I needed to make sure it was just sprained so I found the local urgent care (it was a Saturday morning; my regular doctor wasn’t in) and after an x-ray or two, along with a “yes, you needed to come in here” from the medical person in charge, I walked away knowing it was broken. There were several breaks in the end of the radius, near all those little bones that make up the wrist, some of which were jammed up into the space created by the broken pieces. I remember thinking it was odd that the bone I actually hit on the ground didn’t break; it was the one next to it. Go figure.

surgery 1
What the inside of my arm looks like – don’t look too closely if you’re squeamish 😀

Twelve days later, I checked in for my surgery at the bright hour of 6:30 AM. Mark was on his way to Texas for a conference, so Nick became my chauffeur and right-hand person for the day. I got my handy dandy little hospital gown and a pair of socks with rubber nubby things on them so I wouldn’t trip, and I carefully changed into my costume for the day.  When the nurse asked if I had a religious preference or any special requests for my time there in the hospital, I said yes, I wanted clowns in costumes and cookies. I also asked for Queen to be played in the operating room. I got Queen.

surgery 2
Looks like a lot of hardware and tools in that container… wonder if they’re gonna use it all on me?

The surgery “went well.” It was about two hours long and although I apparently had a tough time coming out of the anesthesia and a room was being prepped so I spend the night, I decided to throw up the Sprite I’d been drinking… and just as if a switch had been thrown, I was back to my cheerful self, ready to go home.

From the beginning, I had been instructed not to use my wrist, fingers, arm. I’m right-handed. It was my right wrist. I quickly found out how many things one does that normally require using two hands – tying shoes, buttoning and zipping up jeans, hooking a bra, opening a can of tuna – and how many things one normally does with the dominant hand – turning the key in the ignition, shifting the transmission, shaking hands, brushing hair and teeth, writing, eating.

surgery 8
Checking the work with the portable X-ray machine

Doing everything one-handed meant that everything I did took longer, whether it was walking to the car, folding my clean laundry, fixing something to eat, putting my clothes on, washing my hair. Doing everything one-handed was challenging enough but add to that the wrecked wrist which hurt like hell, and I felt like I was moving in slow-motion. And after many years of saying, “Don’t use your teeth for that!” I began to use my teeth whenever possible to take place of the “missing” second hand. I opened jars by placing them between my knees and twisting the lid with my left hand. It usually worked. When it didn’t, I waited until someone could open it for me. I learned to ask cashiers to open things at the grocery store or to stop someone in the parking lot if I forgot to ask the cashier.

Taking a shower took on humongous proportions all its own, and afterwards, I felt like I’d accomplished something huge for the day. Heaven knows I needed a recovery period and maybe a nap after all that work! Getting clean(ish) looked something like this:

  • get out of my clothes using only my left hand
  • get into the bathtub and pull the shower curtain closed
  • turn on the water, let it get warm
  • raise my right arm as high over my head as possible
  • using a large plastic cup from a 7-11 Slurpee, fill with water and pour over body until all parts are wet
  • set large plastic cup down somewhere where it won’t fall out of the tub onto the floor where it’ll need to be retrieved (a process all its own)
  • using shampoo, squirt a bunch on top of head
  • put shampoo bottle down on edge of tub
  • smoosh shampoo all over head
  • using bar of soap, get all the important parts soapy
  • put bar of soap down somewhere where it won’t fall into the tub or onto the floor
  • pick up the large plastic cup, fill with water, pour over shampoo-y head and soapy body parts, again and again, until sure all shampoo and soap has been rinsed off
  • set large plastic cup down again
  • check to make sure all soapy parts have had the soap rinsed away
  • if any shampoo-y or soapy parts are still soapy, repeat the last several steps as many times as necessary to make sure all shampoo and soap have been rinsed away
  • turn the water off
  • pull shower curtain back
  • pick up towel, which hopefully I remembered to place nearby
  • dry off wet clean body with one hand (try it sometime – it’s not as easy as it sounds!)
  • step out of tub, carefully maintaining balance
  • …and now go into the routine of combing out hair and drying it, putting lotion on my face, etc. Oh yeah. Try putting deodorant on with just one hand – hold the container in left hand, finagle it with fingers to try and get some of the stuff on the skin under my arm, then squish arm around, back and forth, trying to spread it out as much as possible. It was sure a good thing no one was filming this!
surgery 5
Nine stitches on top, six on the bottom

From the time I fell and fractured my wrist, until I had surgery to repair it, was twelve days. Twelve days during which I saw the orthopedic surgeon (a three-hour drive round trip + crazy Portland traffic) where I got the word that surgery was the best fix for the damage, and then to get ready for that surgery, I made arrangements with my son to spend a few days at his house (had to locate a bed that could be set up in their “entertainment” room), located a body-piercer who would take my piercings out and replace them with glass “place-holders,” tried to anticipate what I’d want to eat for a few days after surgery and went to the store to get it, and found someone to cut my hair really short so I wouldn’t have to mess with it. I also had appointments with my new gastroenterologist and my new cardiologist during the week after I broke my wrist. Might not seem like a lot to do in 12 days but I was doing this while in a lot of pain and doing it all one-handed, and for the most part, making the round-trip drive from Gervais, over an hour away; everything just took longer.

surgery 6
Getting all those stitches, I mean sutures, removed

I really thought I’d be spending only a few days, maybe a week, at my son’s and then I’d go back to Gervais where I was staying with friends. Little did I know: that surgery is kind of serious and your body takes awhile to recover, not only from the surgery but from the anesthesia as well; that it’d take such a long time just to recover enough to sit up for more than 15 minutes at a time, let alone make the over-an-hour-long drive back to Gervais; that just getting up to go to the bathroom would take more energy than I had but I knew I had to anyway because no one can pee for you. That surgery wiped me out. Literally. Wiped me out. And I had no idea. None of us did. There were things that happened that completely caught me off-guard: things like sounds. Every single little sound made every single cell in my body jump. Sounds that normally don’t even get a second thought would make every part of me cringe, like every little cell was cringing. All I wanted was peace and quiet, no sounds, no noise. But I didn’t know I wanted that! How do I explain it? I’m not sure I can. The last time I had surgery, I was ten years old so I just had no idea that it would affect me like it did. Once I was more coherent and more aware, I googled the after-effects of surgery and found that what I was experiencing was very common. I wish I’d googled it before I had the surgery but I didn’t, and it made for some uncomfortableness because none of us knew it would be like it was. Mark and Nick were doing the best they knew how to make me as

surgery 9
My brand new shiny purple splint

comfortable as possible for what we thought was going to be just a few days. I just didn’t have the energy or stamina to consider driving back to Gervais. So a couple of weeks went by, and then, I got sick with a bug that flew by (or that someone brought over to the house with them).

It seemed like I was never going to get out of their “extra” room, which really wasn’t extra at all; I had taken over a large part of their living space in their little bitty home and having me there was a challenge for all of us – challenging because of the lack of space, the lack of privacy, the not knowing what to do to help out, just about everything that surrounded this new experience. I had tried to anticipate what I would be able to make myself to eat so had brought food with me, but once it ran out, one of them (Mark or Nick) would have to go to the store for me, and with their schedules and availability, let’s just say it was challenging. I knew I needed to give them back their space, but I felt like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place – I just didn’t have what I needed physically to get myself out of there. That probably didn’t make me any easier to live with. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of not being able to take care of yourself when you’ve been doing it most of your life. It’s not a very good feeling.

surgery 9
Yup, it’s all there: two plates, thirteen screws, one pin

I can’t begin to describe the frustration, the helplessness, the despair that came over me. I was trying to navigate through the specialists who were going to be taking care of other parts of my body, all the while trying to take care of myself with an arm that felt like someone had hit it with a 20-pound sledge hammer and a body that was trying to negotiate having been anesthetized and drugged with pain medication. I was totally shocked at the reaction I had to the surgery – the physical part and the mental part. People who had offered to help me out were not available when I called them. Other people who would have helped if they could have weren’t able to be there for whatever reason. I don’t mean any of this to sound like I’m blaming anyone for not being there because I don’t mean it that way at all. I’m just trying to put into words what I felt like. I fell into pits of disappointment when I’d call someone for help only to find they really weren’t available when they said they would be. I know we’re all human and things change and it’s just the way it is, but my recommendation here would be that if you aren’t planning on being available when you say you are going to be, don’t offer to help out in the first place. Or let the person know that your availability has changed. For the person who is depending on you, it’s important to let them know.

I cried for no reason. Or for what seemed like no reason at the time. I’d cry when I was trying to do my therapy exercises and my wrist hurt so much I just knew it was never going to get any better. I cried when I tried to open a can of tuna and couldn’t make the opener work. I cried when I tried to trim my fingernails and couldn’t work the fingernail clippers. The worst part was I’m not a crier. That made me feel even worse.

surgery 7
Look! I can finally tie my shoes again!

Today is the three-month anniversary of my wrist surgery. I am now the proud owner of two stainless steel plates, thirteen screws, and one big long pin, all holding my wrist in place. I still go to physical therapy every week and do my exercises several times a day. My wrist still hurts but is much better than it was three months ago. I have about half of the range of motion that I had before this break happened. I can use my fingers but do not have much strength in them so gripping anything is difficult. As a result of the surgery, I now also have a trigger finger (the tendon doesn’t glide properly and the finger doesn’t straighten out) and Dupuytren’s Contracture (eventually one or more of my fingers will not be able to straighten out) in my right hand, both of which make getting my grip back a challenge; both things will probably need to be addressed at some future date.

Things I took for granted before this injury: taking a shower, turning the key in the car’s ignition, opening a can of soup, trimming my own fingernails, folding the laundry, opening a jar or bottle, filling out paperwork, signing my name, blowing my nose, combing my hair and putting gel in it, putting sheets on the bed, tying my shoes, putting socks on my feet, buttoning my jeans and zipping them up, hooking a bra and putting it on, buttering a piece of toast, eating a taco (heck, eating anything!), driving my car, putting kinesio tape on my ankle, using my phone. The list is endless; I never realized how many things I did two-handed. I hope to never take these things for granted again.

surgery 10
What my arm looks like today – the incisions are almost invisible, the wrist is almost normal size, the fingers are less swollen.

I have been told by both the surgeon and the hand therapist that it will be at least a year before I won’t notice the pain as much and that I should have back all the range of motion I’m going to get by then. In order to accomplish either one of those things in this coming year, I will have to continue doing my hand exercises several times a day, continue to see the hand therapist at least twice a month, and not fall and break it again. Reality is that I will never have back the range of motion that I had and it will probably hurt for the rest of my life. In any case, it will definitely be a whole lot better than if my hand had been chopped off, because at least today, I can hold the deodorant container with my right hand and get that solid antiperspirant properly applied to my left pit. It’s the little things that make the biggest difference, don’t you know 😀

…and now I think I’ve said all I can about my distal radius fracture and the subsequent repair. Thank you all for hanging in there with me, for your thoughts and prayers, for the flowers and balloons and cards, for taking me out to lunch and coffee, for calling and messaging, for making me dinner, for grinding the pepper for me, for driving me places when I couldn’t drive myself. I appreciate each and every one of you!

Onward and upward!

My Distal Radius Fracture and Subsequent Repair

16 thoughts on “My Distal Radius Fracture and Subsequent Repair

  • January 14, 2016 at 11:38 am

    Oh wow! Thank you for the play by play. What I went through with my hip replacement/recovery was nothing compared to your story. I wish I had been close enough to help you.

    • January 15, 2016 at 9:18 am

      To say I was surprised by the aftermath of the surgery and the ongoing recovery is an understatement, Barbara. If we were closer together, we could have helped each other 😀

  • January 14, 2016 at 3:17 pm

    Oh my Lois!
    That was quite a blow by blow story. Its just amazing to think of all the little things that turn into obstacles along the way to healing. I am so glad your on the side of recovery now. 3 months gone from a 12 month ordeal. Thank goodness each of those 9 months will be better than the one before. 🙂 will you be staying in Vancouver? I must get a visit in before you go to warmer climes!
    I hope each day does find you feeling better and better!
    LOVE ya!

    • January 15, 2016 at 9:23 am

      Hi Debbie! This story is only about my wrist 😀 I have other things that are also in recovery or needing to be addressed so they can go into recovery… I jokingly say that every part of my body now has its own specialist!

      I think I will be in Vancouver for another couple of months, then maybe back to Gervais. Since some of the issues with my other body parts are still up in the air (will I need more surgery? other monitors? other therapy of some kind? more tests? so many questions without answers!), I don’t really have a game plan at this point other than concentrating on healing my body. It’s what I’m doing, one day at a time <3

      Thank you for your thoughts! I appreciate them!

  • January 14, 2016 at 3:40 pm

    I can see why it took you so long to want to write all that out, Lois. It was just too exhausting to even begin before. But now it’s done; scars are healing. You’re on your way to happier times. And spring is coming!!!! Better days ahead!!!

    • January 15, 2016 at 9:27 am

      Hi Marilyn! Yes, the surgery on my wrist is done! Yay! I’m happy about that!! The complications to my hand may (and will eventually) require more surgery. I’m also currently addressing all the other issues of my body (with their own specialists 😀 ) and am hopeful I will be able to resolve them to the point where I will be able to travel again one of these days. I look forward to it! Yay! Better days ahead! Yes!

      Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment! You rock, my friend!

  • January 14, 2016 at 3:50 pm

    Love the pictures of the stitches, purple cast/brace and the purple shoes! Onward and upward indeed!!

    • January 15, 2016 at 9:29 am

      I was so hoping they could video the surgery (thanks for the idea!) but I know they’re busy people in there and have other things to do besides take pics and videos. It was cool to see the pics they WERE able to get!

      Purple on, my friend 😀

  • January 14, 2016 at 5:56 pm

    Lois, you have truly been put to the test and my heart goes out to you, my friend. I wish I lived “over there” so I could help you. If you were “over here” you could stay as long as necessary so that you didn’t feel pressured to be somewhere else. That’s what I would hope for myself if I were in need of help. My heart truly goes out to you. I understand when you say that you don’t want to write about what happens when your life as you once knew it has changed. It’s like hanging on to the last bit of yourself — your independence — trying not to let go — not really having the range of choices you once had — and finally taking that next step towards . . . who knows what. A few years after high school I developed a calcium deposit on the top of my right wrist (right on top of all those little bones) between the radius and my fingers. I think I acquired it from spraining my wrist during gymnastics (hand flips and stuff like that). As time went on, the calcium deposit grew to the point where I could no longer move my wrist up or down – it was like it was frozen. My range of motion was about 1″ up/down and it was painful. I couldn’t use my wrist to even push myself up off a chair. And, it was even more painful with the rain and damp weather in Portland. It always ached. In 1974 I had surgery and they removed the calcium deposit by scraping the bone; then coating it with some type of “Teflon” to prevent the calcium from growing back. It took a long time for me to regain use of my wrist — at least a year — And it was painful for even a longer period of time. I had a “secretarial” job at Dillingham Marine & Manufacturing over in NW Portland. My boss wasn’t too happy when I returned and could only hunt & peck across the typewriter keyboard. Anyway, he fired me. I remember exactly what you described about having to do everything and anything with only your left hand. It was a struggle. I also had a manual shift in my car. As I sit here typing this, I am wondering now how I would handle something like this at my age now. Probably not nearly as well as you have. So, please know that I send you uplifting thoughts and prayers daily, because I do understand. Love you lots, Lois. Your Friend-Oh, Nancy

    • January 15, 2016 at 9:38 am

      Nancy, I can only imagine trying to work with a wrist that doesn’t work! I, too, was let go from a job that I couldn’t do when I broke a vertebra in my back. I was writing (and then typing up) geotechnical reports for a civil engineering firm, and me not being able to sit was a problem for them 😀 I was a single mom with a son in early high school so I began collecting state disability which was $25 more than my rent was. Needless to say, it was a tough year.

      This current experience has left me with the knowledge that being alone is not all it’s cracked up to be, at least at this stage of my life. Just having someone around who can open cans, hook my bra, butter the toast would be a good thing 😀 But I also know that if it’s important to do, there’s always a way to figure out how to do it. Or maybe determine that it’s not really that important and then not do it at all! As much as I craved tuna, and then couldn’t get the can open, I lived through the day until I could find someone to open the can. My “instant gratification gene” will just have to wait 😀

      Thanks for stopping by, my friend – I appreciate you! <3

  • January 14, 2016 at 6:00 pm

    Other than having my tonsils out when I was a kid, I’ve never had any surgery. And I haven’t been close to anyone who has had surgery. So I had always assumed recovery was just a matter of rest and good drugs. Thanks for giving me insight. Here’s wishing you a speedier recovery.

    • January 15, 2016 at 9:41 am

      I hadn’t had surgery since I was ten and got a tendon repaired on my left thumb; it really wasn’t a very good indication of what this surgery would be like. I still want to write the “what to do for someone who’s had surgery” post – or maybe what NOT to do would be more helpful! Thanks for the good wishes… rock on, my friend!

  • January 15, 2016 at 10:42 am

    Hola from the Baja! First and foremost you are a survivor and won’t take “no” for answer – that’s what gets you where you are today. Not easy, but here you are. In pondering your post of course there are parallels to draw with Lynn and being his care giver – looking at this from the other side! I don’t know if it’s easier being the one watching the frustration of trying to zip the britches or not……I just know that life changes drastically and it takes a lot of patience and help. The best part is your enduring spirit – even bad days can end well right? Then I thought about making our way in a different country/culture and the challenges that entails. Obviously not the physical you are facing but still life changing (but at least by choice!) How to find and wade through medical care – even just getting Lynn’s glasses adjusted was an adventure. Oh, and an oil change in the care……I’m dreading the idea of having any major mechanical issues……cringe, cringe. But like you, I take these things as learning experiences – who to trust, expect the unexpected, go with the flow, be grateful, ask for help but know it may not happen….the list goes on. But at the end of the day we are still here and energized that tomorrow will bring another surprise! I love you dearly and can’t wait for our lunch date on Thursday, March 3! XOXOXO

    • January 15, 2016 at 11:27 am

      Oh how I remember when you became Lynn’s caregiver, Kathy! How lucky and fortunate he was and is to have you! Just think of what that would have been like for him if he’d been on his own, without anyone to care-give him. He would have had a much different experience, don’t you think? At least, he didn’t have to think about who would be helping him out 😀 I remember your struggles with him wanting to do something he was no longer capable of doing. What if you hadn’t been there to let him know he couldn’t do it anymore?

      My uncle became a quadriplegic while he was driving home from work one day. It took him almost a year to make it home from the hospitals and rehab places he was in and I’ve often wondered what would have happened to him if he hadn’t had his wife and daughters nearby.

      Life as we know it can indeed change in a heartbeat and truthfully, after watching my aunt’s life change as a result of her husband’s new life-condition, I wondered about that difference between the person experiencing the “new life” and the person whose life changed as a result of that other person. You have experience with that that I don’t have, Kathy. It’s a valuable experience!

      I have been “on the road” since 2007, when my house/car/livelihood/etc. went away. I’m guessing that a lot of the experiences you’re having adjusting to a new life in Baja are very similar to those I experienced all those years ago when I became homeless, and have continued to experience as I’ve remained house-less (I’m no longer homeless because home is wherever I am!). While it wasn’t my (obvious) choice to become homeless, and I certainly don’t think I would have chosen it on purpose, I still just walk through each day, each location, each new haircutter, each new mechanic, each new road, each new “view” as best I can, and I know you do, too! They don’t all work out but most of them do. I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything!

      I’m looking forward to our lunch together, too! Wouldn’t miss it for the world 😀

      Much love and big hugs to you, my friend <3

  • January 15, 2016 at 7:48 pm

    You have quite the story there Lois! Falls are really the pits (or insert whatever words fits better!) when you’re over 50. Life changing, though sometimes not permanently. Brought back memories of my own recovery from a broken humerus that took over a year to heal. Luckily, I opted not to have surgery (tho not realizing that it would take me over a year to heal).

    What resonates with me is how one’s energy is affected by such a trauma. The fatigue and how much effort everything takes to live and get through the day astounded me as you well described. I still haven’t quite recovered after 2 years. And I didn’t have surgery.

    Your account of the process will be helpful as you continue on your journey. I hope it will testify to the progress that you are making when you can read and remember what you can do now, that was once difficult or impossible to do in the past.

    Thankfully you are a flexible person and will continue to rebound. The realization that our selves became so dependent, fragile, and tearful at a moment’s notice is painful and humbling. But the condition is not permanent nor eroded away our strength. The strength and resilience does come back but maybe really never went away, just took a back seat for the time being. Healing comes in lots of forms. Acceptance of our limitations is a tricky thing. Sometimes necessary. But sometimes needs to be kicked in the pants!

    But there’s nothing like feeling that the ordeal is finally behind you as to refocus on the current crisis or continuing issues or struggles. Despite the length of time my arm took to heal, it’s really as good as it was and will never break in the same place again. I had a lot of osteopathic manipulation on the fascia while momentarily painful, really helped with range of motion. So when I was finally cleared to do PT, I only had to focus on rebuilding strength and not on breaking up scar issue. It might be worth seeing if Osteopathic manipulation might help in your situation. Sorry about your experience with ongoing pain. Hope you’re beyond the ordeal part.

    Wishing you continued healing, mobility and serenity.

    • January 16, 2016 at 1:01 pm

      Hi Kathy! The healing of your humerus has been a long journey for you, my friend; it’s no wonder it’s taken so much out of you. But you are a strong person as well, and doing what you need to do to get your strength and stamina back and I know it’ll all come back some day. I’ve broken other bones and not had surgery on them but this wrist thing is kicking my butt. Perhaps it is because I’m several years past 60 and healing just takes longer. I don’t know. I have a chiropractor that helps me out with it but he isn’t covered by my insurance (he’s also working on the sprained ankle I got last April and which is still healing) so I don’t see him as often as I know would be more helpful if I could see him more often.

      I’ve been a fall-er for many years but I’ve always known I was falling and could position my body for the fall. These “black out” falls where I don’t know I’m falling until right before I hit the ground have been a different thing – since I don’t know I’m falling, I don’t have time to fall properly. And hence the reason for the new cardiologist and new neurologist – trying to figure out what’s going on with the split-second black-outs (not fainting – it’s different). I have a new heart monitor implanted in my chest (the external ones didn’t work well for me) and I’m hoping it gives us some answers that we can address. I’d love to find a good traditional Chinese medicine practitioner – the one I had is no longer in this area. I think it would be a good addition to the healing team.

      I’ve wondered if I will ever recover from the recent adventure my body has gone off on – I joke that every part of my body now has a specialist of its own 😀 As soon as things settle down, I’m planning on moving on and getting back to the adventure that is life. Right now, my adventure is healing my body. And what an adventure it’s been so far!

      Thank you for your comments – it’s encouraging to hear your story and know you’re healing as well. Be well, my friend.

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