Monday, September 16, 2013

What a broken arm really means

Ok. I broke my arm this summer. It was suppose to be our big adventure: three months in our camper to the Yukon and Alaska. One month in I fell from the top step of the camper. This is probably a four foot drop. I landed on the point of my left shoulder and I heard a horrible crack. I will spare you the further details.

A month later we arrived home and I began the round of doctor, physio, naturopath and chiropractor appointments to begin to put my self back together again. (Think Humpty Dumpty minus the king's horses and men).

One person told me that a broken arm means that I need to look at my life at see what I need to 'break' with. Another told me that breaking a bone makes it easier to work with the spiritual world. Yet another told me that I broke my arm because I am not able to ask for support and help. Really? On top of trying to heal my arm and back and knee on a physical level, clearly there is some healing needed on the spiritual/emotional/destiny level.

Here is what I learned this summer:

Shit happens. It doesn't matter if you are a good person, or a bad person. Sometimes shit happens.

My son and husband were the best people I could have been with. Far from a hospital, and scared and in pain they took charge and calmly got me where I needed to be. They were angels. Clearly my guardian angel was somewhat distracted at the moment I started to fall, but quickly got back on the job and with help.

When I was totally drugged up on pain medication I had overwhelming feelings of love for my husband. That can't be a bad thing after 37 years.

I don't need as much sleep as I think I do. Sleeping is very uncomfortable and yet when I finally get up in the morning after another restless night I can manage quite well.

There is a silver lining in dark clouds: longer than planned visit with our son, three week visit with our daughter once I got home.

I have really good friends.

Now, something I learned about myself. Well, actually I didn't learn it, but I need to figure out what it is all about. When I fell, after I landed, I kept apologizing. Through the pain, and shock, and fear I kept apologizing for ruining our trip. What the heck is that about?

Maybe once I finish all the physio I need some therapy. Really.

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