Mixed Metaphors

Fractured Definition: having a crack or break: having suffered a fracture

Broken Definition: (of a person) having given up all hope; despairing 

Resilient Definition: (of a person) able to withstand or recover quickly from difficult conditions

On Wednesday, May 17^th, I accidentally fell forward while attending the Opioid, Stimulants, and Trauma Summit sponsored by the State of Wisconsin Department of Health Services at the Kalahari Resort and Conference Center in Wisconsin Dells and fractured the humerus of my right, dominant arm. Ouch!

To make matters worse, at 1:00 that same day, I was scheduled as a Finding Our Way keynote panelist on day two of the conference. The irony, I was to share my recovery and harm reduction journey as a person in recovery from alcohol, substances, and behaviors for over 35 years as an LGBTQ+ AODA Advocate from the OutReach LGBTQ+ Community Center in Madison, Wisconsin. The irony — not lost on me — I harmed myself by falling.

That morning, I rose early, showered, checked work emails, responded to colleagues, and prepared for my presentation. It was 7:15 in the morning when I was on my way to the conference banquet hall for breakfast to meet with colleagues and some of my fellow panelists when I fell.

My hotel suite was comped by the conference and located on the opposite end of the resort/conference center as the conference banquet hall. I had a well-appointed, two-bedroom suite, one bedroom had two queen beds, the primary bedroom a king. There was a fireplace in the living room, a kitchenette, and two bathrooms, one an ensuite from the primary bedroom. A balcony spanned the living room and primary bedroom.

When I reached the central lobby, a kind of town center, the sole of my right shoe created a suction with the hard-surface terrazzo floor. I fell forward. I’m not sure what caused the suction, a sticky spot on the floor or the sole of my shoe. Those fractions of seconds unwound in slow motion. All I could think of were two things, I can’t stop this, and I must look ridiculous, a 73-year-old, overweight woman falling face forward.

In hindsight, it reminded me of a quote in my father’s high school yearbook from 1949, a year before I was born. He participated in a number of sports, wrestling, hurdles, and football. By his own admission and in the lesson, he imparted to his children, the important thing was to participate, whether you became a star, or not. His yearbook quote, which mirrored my fall, “Give me a clear path, and I’ll fall over nothing!” 

In just a minute or two following my fall, two Kalahari security staff with EMT training and their supervisor arrived on scene, plus one of the members of my panel, and a couple additional conference attendees, all eager to assist. What I learned later was my fall was captured on the Kalahari security cameras. Embarrassing and helpful at the same time. Later, I asked if I could get a copy of the video, mainly because I was curious what the fall looked like and to assess how embarrassed I should be. Due to their legal liability concerns, needless-to-say, I didn’t receive my own personal ‘funniest video.’

The Backstory (Or, Should I Say Hip Story?)

As I lie face first on my belly on the Kalahari terrazzo floor, my first thought, Was I able to get up? The second question was, Did I injure, or dislocate my recent, artificial, left hip-replacement from December, 8, 2022? Oh, My!

Before I had time to answer, the security staff helped me roll over on to my butt and asked if I could stand up. I answered, “No! I had a hip replacement in December and was still recovering.” They quickly retrieved a chair, helped me up on the chair, and then when I was steady, with the assistance of a conference-attendee, they raised me to my feet, however the conference-goer grabbed my forearm which already exhibited a hematoma with a small open and bleeding cut. I winced and said, “That hurts!”  He quickly apologized.

My reference to the hip-replacement and my inability to stand on my own, ratcheted up their concern. First, they treated my cut, examined the hematoma, and asked me questions on how I fell, and where was I experiencing pain. I told them it seemed like I made a three-point landing, first my hand and forearm, then my elbow, and lastly my shoulder. They asked if I could lift my right arm. I tried, winced in pain, and answered, no.

Security asked if I was traveling with a companion who could drive me to the ER. I said no. They insisted I be seen and receive x-rays. At first, I thought it was simply care and concern, but after they took all my personal information, asked questions about why I was staying at Kalahari, for pleasure or work, and had me sign-off on their work pad, I realized it was for their protection from liability. My signature was so unrecognizable, they tracked me down later in the day to resign it!

They insisted I be taken by ambulance to the ER to be x-rayed and evaluated at SSM Health Hospital in Baraboo, a few miles away. I agreed, and expressed that I wanted be back in time for my conference keynote panel at 1:00 p.m. What was I thinking?

What Happened Next?

Within a few minutes, an ambulance arrived with two young women EMTs, who immediately asked if I was dizzy, how much pain I was experiencing, and conferred with the Kalahari security staff. I asked my fellow panelist who was waiting to make sure I received the care I needed if he could inform our panel facilitator and the conference coordinator, including my desire to return in time to participate in the keynote. Again, what was I thinking? 

Kalahari security indicated that I should call after I was seen and they would send a shuttle to pick me up. Apparently, it’s relatively common at a resort and conference center the size of Kalahari, which includes one of the Midwest’s largest water parks, that accidents, illness, etc. of the guests occur.

During the short ride in beautiful Wisconsin Dells countryside, the EMTs made sure I was comfortable, assessed my pain level, asked me additional health questions, monitored my vitals, and checked the range of motion of my arm. I chatted them up, and realized later, my body, due to the fall was pumped full of adrenaline and I was a chatty patient, which continued in the ER.

I was greeted by a ‘salty’ nurse with the perfect sense of humor as she asked me questions about the fall, again, my pain level, health history, etc. I indicated to her that I was working at the conference and was presenting at 1:00 p.m. and wanted to make sure, if possible, I could be back in time. She gave me a shot, a high dose of Ibuprofen in my left arm to minimize swelling in my right, dominant and fractured arm, wheeled a phone close to me so the billing office could obtain my insurance information. She also gave me the call button if I needed assistance.

Next, a hospital security officer entered the room and said he’d have to pat me down for weapons and check my purse and work bag. I was still full of adrenaline, and my improv and standup comedy sense of humor kicked in and I responded, “If you touch me inappropriately, I’ll have to slap you!” He looked startled and it appeared he took me seriously. He asked if I had anything in my pockets before he checked. I responded, I had Kleenex and throat lozenges. He gingerly patted me down then asked if I had any weapons in my purse or work bag before he gave them a cursory inspection. I confessed, I had a fingernail clippers. Yes, I was full of myself!

A resident saw me next, asked a series of health questions, examined my arm and range of motion, inquired about my pain level, informed me that they would take a series of x-rays, and have an orthopedic doctor evaluate them. I reminded him, I hoped to return to Kalahari in time to fulfil my commitment and participation in the conference keynote panel. I guess, I was being a little bossy too!

The x-ray technician saw me next and began taking a series of six x-rays, two for my wrist and forearm, two of my elbow and upper arm, and finally two of my shoulder. This was the most painful experience of the day since it was critical that she position my right arm in ways that caused pain. She apologized, and in the end did a great job. 

Good News/Bad News

After a brief wait, the orthopedic doctor entered the room to deliver his findings and interpretation of the x-ray series. He began with the ‘good news.’ I would not require surgery or a cast, instead I would be fitted with a sling. I had a “closed, nondisplaced fracture of the proximal end of right humerus.”

Then he delivered the ‘bad news,’ the x-rays indicated I had severe bone-on-bone osteoarthritis in my right dominant shoulder, with no remaining cartilage at the shoulder joint near the fracture, plus a bone spur. He said that I may need surgery for my glenohumeral arthritis at a later date. Oh, My!

He gave me follow-up instructions to be seen in Madison by orthopedics again in 3-5 days, ice shoulder regularly, alternate between Tylenol and Ibuprofen, and a short course of low-dose hydrocodone for severe pain. The salty nurse retuned and fitted me with a sling and I was discharged.

After checking out at the billing office when they scanned my insurance cards, I purchased some Ibuprofen from the pharmacy and called the Kalahari shuttle to pick me up and return me to the conference so I could present and tell my recovery and harm reduction story as a member of the keynote panel!

I was surprised to see that Floyd (I think that was his name), one of the same Kalahari security staff members who helped me earlier, was also the shuttle driver and asked me questions about what I learned from the ER visit. I had him drop me off at the conference center entrance. If my memory serves me, it was 11:00 a.m. I checked messages and emails on my phone, spoke with another conference attendee, who like me recently had a hip-replacement and we commiserated about our shared experiences.

I walked past the buffet station which was being setup with our pizza and salad lunch for the conference. It looked delicious, featuring both the square-cut, cracker thin-crust pizza from my hometown, plus a hand-tossed, triangular-cut option some with veggies, sausage, or pepperoni. I was hungry since I missed breakfast, yet I was reticent to eat lunch right before the keynote panel since the day before I had IBS issues related to our Taco Bar lunch. Yikes!

Before I entered the conference banquet room, I met with the conference coordinator and reported on my status. She was surprised that I was still planning on participating in the keynote. I asked her to message the keynote facilitator to let them know I was back from the hospital and ready to present.

I met with my fellow panelists as they enjoyed lunch and we strategized before our keynote. Everyone was surprised, that given my fall and current condition, I was still willing to present. I believe I was still running on adrenaline and I had been looking forward to the keynote.

Our presenters included three diverse Finding Our Way panelists, each with unique recovery stories, State of Wisconsin Health Services presenter who introduced the topic with a slide presentation, and our facilitator, a leading proponent of Harm Reduction who had previously organized panels and presentations for this conference.

After the presentation we answered questions from the 400+ in-person attendees and those who were attending remotely via the Whova app. My colleagues and I knocked it out of the proverbial park, and I shared my backstory and recovery journey, full disclosure without shame. It was a healing experience. We received excellent feedback. I was grateful I was able to meet my commitment. It was 2:15 p.m. and I knew I needed to return to my room and assess next steps.

First, I followed up with my manager at OutReach to inform them about the accident and my status.  I would be unable to work at least until after the follow-up appointment In Madison with orthopedics at UW Health Hospital & Clinics. I would keep them informed.

I sent a series of messages to my close circle of friends and family. I called Leanne, a member of my chosen family and Pod Squad member. I mentioned to her that I was planning to return home the next day and hoped that I would be able to drive from Wisconsin Dells back to Madison. Again, what was I thinking? Leanne insisted that she and her spouse Rene’ would pick me up and one of them would drive my car back. No argument or discussion from me. Leanne knows from our history as friends that it’s challenging for me to accept help, so when I acquiesced, she knew it was a serious injury.

Since I had not eaten for 24 hours, and the pizza they served at lunch looked inviting, I ordered a small cracker-thin crust square cut pizza from Pizza Ranch, a business owned by Kalahari and a short distance away. In minutes, it arrived at my hotel door and was delicious, though as it turned out, I didn’t have much of an appetite.

The next morning, learning how to use my left nondominant arm, I packed my suitcase, and in the morning, rendezvoused with Leanne and Rene’ who returned both my car and I back home. Grateful. It takes a village.

It Takes a Village & Health System Care & Bureaucracy

First, I’m grateful. I’m a glass-full kind of girl; I look for the positive in most situations. It helps me remain hopeful and fuels my resilience. Though there were painful challenges at the beginning of my recovery, I was supported by my network of friends, family, both bio and chosen, work colleagues, and of course, the healthcare I received from UW Health Hospital & Clinics.

Though I was able to recover at home, my dominant right arm was out of commission for the most part. Everything I did was more difficult and painful. Unfortunately, some of what I needed to do was communicate with workmen’s comp, my employer, schedule healthcare appointments and complete registrations online including workmen’s comp and insurance questionnaires. I had to fill-out online forms about the accident in addition to phone calls with the claims adjuster. I needed to do this when keyboarding was the most painful. I had a hematoma and bruising from my wrist to my shoulder.

In addition to the help returning home by members of my Pod Squad, they had supported me mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually through the pandemic and during my hip-replacement in December and recovery through January.  My bio and chosen family, including my sister Tami and niece Gemma helped with grocery shopping and Tami and family drove me to Racine to celebrate Father’s Day.

Tracy, my ex-partner, chosen family, and friend who is physical therapist, assisted me during the past five weeks, as my driver, attending doctor appointments with me as a second pair of ears and as a P.T., heled me with ‘heavy lifting’ like taking out the trash, unloading groceries, tasks that exceeded my 1-2 lb. lifting restriction. She also documented in photos my x-rays and arm.  Tracy was instrumental help in my hip-replacement surgery and recovery too. I couldn’t have made the progress I made without her. The same is true for this experience. I’m lucky and grateful.

Other friends and family provided support with phone calls, offers to do errands, prepare and/or deliver meals, and responded to my posts on social media so I didn’t feel so isolated.

On June 2, I had a follow-up appointment with a nurse practioner at UW Health Hospital & Clinics after a series of new x-rays. The good news was the fracture was such that I didn’t need surgery, though it would require additional recovery time and gentle physical therapy to increase my range of motion and grip strength. When I was able, comfortably, I could stop using the sling. She ordered the P.T. appointments however she indicated they were scheduling weeks out.

I was given some exercises I could do at home and Tracy would help me be accountable. The nurse practioner indicated I should continue to recover at home and not return to work yet. We scheduled a follow-up series of x-rays and an appointment with an orthopedic doctor three weeks out.

I was motivated to be seen by a physical therapist, so I called UW Health Orthopedics to see if I could schedule something sooner with the P.T. I had worked with successfully during my hip-replacement recovery. I got lucky and he fit me in. I saw him last Thursday, and he measured my range of motion, grip strength and designed some P.T. exercises for me. We scheduled a series of appointments, once a week for six weeks. Grateful.

As I recovered at home, I created a new routine after establishing a more normal sleep schedule. I needed to take my medications, including Tylenol and Ibuprofen for pain plus my prescriptions, so I ate three smaller meals during the day. My schedule could be summarized as follows (I received a get-well card from my friends at Safe Communities, which outlined the exact same four things): Comfort food, as many naps as needed, pajama day every day, and guilty pleasure TV.  LOL

I watched too much CNN News, and balanced it with Ridiculousness and Funniest Home Videos. The latter made me want to see my accident even more to see how ridiculous I looked yet I hope it doesn’t appear in one of those shows. Full disclosure, I laughed at the pratfalls of others. I streamed a lot of standup comedy specials to help me prepare for my return to the stage and perform the material I’m outlining in my head, Funny, Not Funny!

Each day I made small steps in my recovery. I realized that all the things I take for granted were more difficult. I persevered. I wanted to return to work when I was able to more easily and less painfully, keyboard, and contribute to our work with our community.

One more comment regarding my care. I’ve continued to receive excellent and compassionate care for the exception of the orthopedic doctor I saw last Friday, who couldn’t temper his arrogance and snarky response when I asked if I was cleared to drive and return to work. I received a lecture on how he would not be liable if I got in some kind of car accident which injured or killed someone. WTF?! I was released to return to work.

I also asked about the arthroplasty surgery for my arthritic shoulder that I may need in the future and he immediately responded that I was not a candidate since I was overweight.  When the appointment ended, he said he wanted to see me again in two or three weeks. He gave me a fist bump like we were pals. Not!

It was the opposite response that I received from the physical therapist I saw the day before, the same therapist who worked with me after my hip-replacement who witnessed my hard work, and the surgeon who did my hip-replacement who was aware of all the prep I did before the surgery which included weight loss, nutritionist appointments, P.T. and meetings with a psychologist to address my exercise resistance and compulsive eating history.

On Monday, 6/26/23, I returned to my half-time job as the LGBTQ+ AODA Advocate for OutReach. I missed work, especially since it was Pride Month and the staff was crazy busy in my absence as they welcomed new people and positions, addressed some of the anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, gave interviews to the media, testimony in front of the Dane County Board making it a sanctuary city for our trans community, held Pride-related fundraising events with community partners, educational presentations, and the list goes on.

Lessons Learned

Some of the lessons I learned were simply how important writing is for me, whether journaling, blogging, or other creative writing like poetry, monologues, or comedy, since I was unable to keyboard, type, or write by hand without experiencing a fair amount of pain. I drafted fewer emails and posted less on social media. I was reminded too that as I’ve aged and lived alone, I’ve fashioned routines and a rhythm to my life, including time alone, time writing, time with friends and family, activist and advocacy work, and connecting with the various communities which give my life meaning and purpose.

Most importantly, as I learned from my recent hip-replacement recovery, and before that, including the three years surviving the pandemic, the past 38 years of recovery from alcohol, substances, and behaviors, plus the support and allies when I came out as a lesbian, it takes a village. Hilary Clinton was right! I couldn’t recover without accepting help from others. As a stubbornly independent person I had to be humble, vulnerable, and resilient, and I was reminded, I can’t do that alone.

I’ve also been reminded again, again, that as I age, especially when my health, both mental and physical deteriorates — and it will — I will require more assistance and care. It will be essential that I practice the lessons that I’ve learned from this experience and those that preceded it. We are social beings and live and thrive in community. We need to help and support others as we’re able. I’m learning that it’s not just important to give, it’s a lesson in humility and grace to accept help. It bears repeating — I’m grateful!

Fractured, Not Broken

 

Related Reading from Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!

Dispatch from the Hideout: Hip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah!

Letter to Loved Ones (Just in Case)

It Takes a Village: Lessons Learned

Funny, Not Funny!