After 13 years of falling down on concrete, it finally happened: my first broken bone*.
Drove an hour to a new skate park last Sunday, and fell down the wrong way. Drove back an hour. Got to the hospital and discovered I had finally done myself up right. Broken fibula, which, to the best of my knowledge, is the little bone behind the big bone. Seems a fairly kind bone to break. Not like, say a femur or your skull.
We could have left it alone, but the doctor suggested getting a plate and some screws. And if there is anything I’ve learned from years of playing R. Talsorian’s Cyberpunk, it’s is that if you can elect to take surgery that involves metal, take it.
We expect a fully recovery in a few weeks. Sad thing is, all my nurses assume that this will be the end of the skateboarding, as if to say that the old geezer has finally learned his lesson. Whereas my operating assumption was that this will make my ankle stronger.
Should have had the other ankle done at the same time, and taken out my appendix, too.
Anyhow, this is where I’ve been, and why the lack of updates. Hope to pick back up the pace again in the next couple weeks.
Love from the Rockies,
//H
*There may have been others, but if they didn’t merit hospital time, they just don’t count.
6 comments:
You're crazy, Grimmy, but we love you. Get better and go skate! ;)
Battle scar, eh? :)
I myself have never broken one of my own bones.
I've broken those of others and had mine broken (twice). But other than that. . . .
Cheers,
The Pugilist
Elective reconstructive surgery--the medicial field of the future. Get better soon, H. Think of it as a chance to catch up on your reading. :)
It's miraculous that you've made it this long!
Silly sidenote re: titanium.
When my mom was cremated, I asked "what happens to her screws?" As you might remember, she had her spinal cord fused. I was told they were discarded. I was really bothered by that--I thought of them as a part of her (my mom would have *hated* that.). So we have them, in a box, in my dad's closet. I was asked if I wanted her teeth too, but I said I didn't have any emotional attachment to them.
(and my brother, inheriting the family smartass gene, asked if we could reconstitute the ashes by adding water...)
Admit it.
You know you did it.
Just once, alone, when you didn't think anyone else was around.
You looked at your ankle, flexed it once, and made the sound.
Bzzr. Whzzn. Bzzr.
If we make to the same convention floor one day, I'm going to walk behind you, making those same noises.
No shame either.
Mark me.
~ J.L. Collins ~
www.jl-collins.com
Choosey Deathers –
Thank you for your kind words and anecdotes! The leg is doing fine, and I’m already wrestling with the kids again. Good times.
//H
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