On Saturday, Jamie had gotten a riding lawnmower from Fred (his dad) for Allen (his bonus dad). Jamie and Fred got it into the bed of the truck along with the ramp slats (they’re 8×2 boards with those metal doodads riveted to one side), Jamie came home and we went to Allen and Rhonda’s to deliver it. Jamie had to pull through the alleyway to the backyard.
Guess who got to sit on the rider and go backwards? This girl!
It wasn’t so bad while I was on the bed of the truck, but then I hit the tailgate and asked if I could get off and just push. Nope. A few adjustments to the ramps, and I got stuck. I started getting a bad feeling and said “I am going to die” and “I want off, can I get off.”
The bad feeling should’ve gotten my butt out of the seat, but it didn’t.
The left ramp slid out, and the machine and I went tumbling.
I didn’t get crushed. The most that happened was my shoe got caught and flew a foot or two away (good thing I was wearing my sneakers! they don’t have laces) and the rider landed on its side.
I did land on my hands. But! I didn’t hit my head nor did I lose or break my glasses, so I count that as a plus. Rhonda kept saying that I had landed on my shoulder, Allen freaked out because I got hurt, and Jamie asked if I was alright.
Normally, I laugh when I’m injured, but not this time. I tried to laugh, looking at my hands, but couldn’t. I cried. Jamie helped me up and I got Rhonda to give me back my shoe, which she had picked up. Jamie and Allen moved the rider into the correct position and I realize I can’t move my thumb; it’s completely numb.
Fuck, I think I broke my thumb.
Jamie and I walked up to the house while Allen looked over the rider. The shock wore off by the time I went to rinse the blood off my hands and fucking hell that shit hurts. And I realize that not only is my right thumb numb, but my left wrist is numb and going up one side. Fuck, I may have broken my wrist. Awesome.
While it’s not the first time I’ve broken that wrist (broken, fractured, or sprained), I still don’t look forward to what all that entails.
Jamie and I headed to a local immediate care to get it checked. Go in, get the four bloody abrasions cleaned (two on right thumb, one on left ring finger, and one on left palm), and ended up getting a bonus tetanus shot. (it’s been two days and my upper left arm still hurts. nyrr) And got 3 X-rays.
No broken bones, just bruised.
Bone bruising sucks. I just wish that while bone bruising happened, I just wish enough blood vessels in the skin would pop to show off the wonderful bruising as well. But no.
So, no wrapping or bracing at the clinic. I’ve got enough ace bandages, wraps, braces, and everything else at the house to keep me stocked up (except for bandaids. I’ve run out of bandaids faster than we normally do, and apparently we lost half a box somewhere in the house. I blame the gnomes)
And I’m pretty useless. The dogs are slightly terrified thanks to all the shrieking I’ve done (dog training and the use of sharp, shrill noises helps, whether I do it intentionally or not). I can’t wash dishes, I tried picking up Uggs last night and dropped him (he was on the bed, he got like four inches off the bed). The only reason why I can type is because throughout the years I’ve become proficient in one handed/three fingered typing. And, as the things go on, not moving my left wrist isn’t hard and the abrasions on my thumb do not get bonked when I hit the space bar.