Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Le Pause


I knew that it was broken the second I fell.

I had been backing up, trying to slow down, just finishing my solo Flashdance encore ALL BY MYSELF at Ground Zero when I decided it was probably time to, uh, reel it in. My friend was at the bar, completely unaware of what had just occurred.

Ice. I need ice. Oh! And, don't you dare fucking look at it Susan. DON'T LOOK.

I know a thing or three about going into Shock because it has happened to me before. Let's do a list.
  1. The Moment my brother slammed my hand in the Station Wagon Door
  2. The Day I stupidly, impulsively decided to get my nipples pierced
  3. The Week we thought my father was brain dead
  4. The Mornings I wake up from The Dream
  5. The Afternoon a burning marshmallow fell on my hand at Summer Day Camp. And stayed there. Ugh.
So.

I put pressure on my wrist, was so happy there was no bone sticking through the skin, walked back to the table next to DeeJay Dirty Duke, was relieved he didn't even know, took three deep breaths, told Isaac we had to go to the hospital, we drove to Abbott, were there for five hours (less? more?), they gave me three pain meds, they wanted to put me under with Propofol (I said no, my Dad did not wake up from Propofol very well), I hee hee hoo hoooed like I was having a baby through my thumb, they Chinese Finger tortured my hand into sitting the Radius (which was turned 70 degrees the wrong way), they plastered up the splint, my mom drove us home to a weekend of hell (screaming, screaming "YES. IT IS A LEVEL 10 ON THE PAIN SCALE, DAMMIT), we saw the surgeon Monday, she asked if I had seen the x-ray, no I had asked not to see the x-ray (avoid going into Shock at all costs), I saw the x-ray and then wanted to puke, Liz the surgeon informed me I was having emergency surgery in less than 24 hours, I went to a pre-op in Maple Grove, I went home and stared at a tree, I posted shit on FB until I could fall asleep, I got up the next day and...

Walked into that hospital and...

I took a deep breath and...

I took the blood all over the fucking place from a miss-placed hand IV and...

I made them laugh in the operating suite as the 20, 19, 18, 17...

"Hay. You are very tan (says me to anesthesiologist)"

And I woke up with a sparkling, medical-grade titanium plate and screws in my left wrist. The one with which I play la guitare.

_____________________________________________________

The Buddha tells us that life is Suffering, and that we are here to work toward Enlightenment. Suffering is part of life. We suffer, suffer, suffer, and suffer some more. 

But, in the end, it truly is (please don't punch me in the mouth) All About the Breath.

Find the Breath. Then work toward the beginning. I'm not there yet, but we can walk together.

Namasté,
Susan











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