June 27, 2023
[To read this memoir in order, go to the category My Left-Handed Wheelhouse here on the blog.]
When I first moved to Milan, the urgent care was closed. Anyone who urgently needed care needed to drive to a nearby town. But only a few weeks prior to my quirky misstep, our facility reopened. It’s five minutes from home. It’s run my Trinity Health, which doesn’t usually take my insurance. But fortunately, urgent care is an exception.
Linda held the clipboard and quizzed me while I clutched the ice to my wrist in the mostly empty waiting room. She helped me get my credit card out for the copay.
“Oh no, I left the water running in the rain garden!” I remembered. I thought of my five gallons a minute well, and of the drought we were experiencing. It wasn’t a long way back home, but Linda doesn’t feel safe comingling with my two German Shepherds. She appreciates them from the other side of their fence.
“Is Mitchell home?” she asked of Dozer’s daddy.
“Yes, he’s busy in the garage.”
So she went back and walked over to Mitchell’s to find his buddy Sean doing work in the garage. He turned off my water and watered the dogs while he was at it. While she was gone, I went into the exam room and was taken quickly for an ex-ray.
“I heard a snap,” I told the tech.
“That could be a ligament or a tendon. We’ll see.” And after a moment, “You were right.”
“It’s broken?”
“I’m not allowed to tell you, but I can show you.” And so she showed me the two horizontal lines in my two wrist bones. Snap, snap!
“Do you want a shot first or the splint first?” another tech asked me back in my room.
“The shot!” I said, standing up. Linda was at the door. “I’m about to get a shot in the butt, but come on in,” I said, surprisingly jovial. Linda chose the waiting room. Why was I so jovial, I remember wondering. The tech said the shot would hurt, but it didn’t. It wasn’t a narcotic, but rather Toradol. And most importantly, it erased my pain within a matter of minutes. The splint took a few minutes more, and we were headed home. I’d call University of Michigan in the morning—they take my insurance. That’s where I go for dental, vision, everything.
Back home, I realized I had no functioning right arm. My dominant arm was benched. Hmmm. I thought, this will be interesting. And then: Why wasn’t I more upset? What was going on? I cautiously walked out to the deck to retrieve my wine. The worried dogs came back in with me and we settled in front of the t.v. The Sauvignon Blanc was still cool and for some reason I felt like celebrating. It would be a journey of discovery to understand why.
