I once broke my arm. I was a sophomore in high school. I’ve heard a lot of cool “broke bones” stories. Mine was not cool. It was actually kind of lame. “But Beth! Would you happen to have some sort of analogy or parallel for life with your lame broken arm story?” Why yes I do! Join me, for a trip back to my teenage years.
Late in the winter of 2001, I found myself at a cheerleading practice. This wasn’t a regular practice. We had just lost regionals the week before. It was heartbreaking. So, we decided to have one more practice for fun. Just to throw some stunts and play around one last time until the next season. I finally nailed my Toss Awesome (for you non cheer folks, I held my flyer with one arm. It is pretty freaking awesome indeed). So, I decided to do some skills. Time to warm up my back handspring. SNAP! The sound of the break seemed so loud, it echoed in my ears. I screamed a four letter word (it starts with an “F” to be specific). Immediate tears. I grabbed my arm and laid there sobbing. The coach tried to reassure me it was just jammed. I screamed at her it was broken and she didn’t know what she was talking about.
I sat there the rest of practice, whimpering. Holding my arm, trying to not move it. After what felt like an eternity, my mom came and took me to the ER. I was finally calming down and able to sit still without shooting pain. Then came the X-Ray. They had to pull my arm away from my body and lay it in a few different positions. I was sobbing and shaking. It was almost as bad as when I broke it. They gave me pain meds, which I immediately threw up all over. Put it in a sling, and scheduled my appt with the doctor.
I spent the rest of the night moving with great caution. Emotionally exhausted. Scared to even sleep for fear I would bump it.
I went to get it casted. Again, I had to have my arm pulled away from my body and the doctor carefully wrapped the light blue cast around my arm. I could feel my anxiety calming, until, he grabbed and squeezed. “Oh my god what are you doing?!?” The pain was excruciating. “I have to set it. Or it won’t heal right, then you would have to come back and have to do this all again.”
That stupid cast. It came up past my elbow. So, that arm was pretty much useless. I learned quickly how little I could do. I had to shower with a trash bag around it. I couldn’t shave my armpit without help, or put deodorant on. Even carrying books to class now took me twice as long. My arm itched and after awhile the cast started to stink. Worst of all, I wasn’t able to play softball that year.
Then, I got the cast off. It was very exciting. They cut it off, and I looked at this skinny, hairy, pale arm. What happened to it? It had become so weak. It was a sad reality for this inpatient, active girl, that even though it was healed, I still couldn’t use it fully. It took quite awhile to get the strength back, but I am pleased to say, I have both arms completely functional now. Yet, when the weather changes, or it’s cold, it aches. Still to this day, I feel some pain. Not all the time, but enough that I won’t forget about breaking it.
All that being said, (told you lame, but it was important to say all that before this next part) I feel loss is like breaking a bone. The initial pain is excruciating. We just want to keep the hurt close to us, but keep having people pull it out of us. Which causes more excruciating pain. If we don’t though, it won’t heal properly. Then after we have it in a place it can heal, we realize that we are limited it what we able to do. We may even have to miss out on something we wanted to do. Then, after we heal, we are made aware of how weak that part of us is, and have to gain the strength back. Slowly, we become completely functional again. But, we will always have an ache. The rest of our lives, we will feel a bit of pain and be reminded of our loss.
This is what I told my kids after my dad died 2 months ago. I have to keep reminding myself, I am casted and limited right now. But this is how I get to healing properly. There are no shortcuts. As inpatient as I may be, healing can’t be rushed.
thatbethy 