Word Press, that darling, has begun giving me much needed writing prompts. Writers need those, too. I obviously do, having been AWOL on yet another front of life’s lovely skirmishes. Today’s question? Have you ever broken a bone?
I had to laugh when I read that. There was a day I actually wished I’d broken a bone to see what it felt like, the cast mostly. Signing friend’s casts in grade school was fun. Bone breaking is not, however. Duh. (I had similarly odd views of cavities, but I digress and I really should stop that.)
But it took me to age 18 to cement the no brainer that breaking bones %$#@! Lucky me, a newly minted legal adult (which means zip regarding one’s maturity level.) got her wish the night before high school graduation. A celebratory hot tub party with my buddies ended with a cracked elbow and me nearly missing my own graduation.
It took over a year to fully extend my arm in the aftermath. Yeah. Not fun. At nineteen I had my first crush fracture. Dad thought he’d paralyzed me because he’d failed to cut down the swing with the rotting rope out back. But I was the fool who got on that sucker and lost 1/4″ in height in payment for said idiocy.
That fun one lasted nearly a year. Being carried to the bathroom is no joyride. What I took issue with was an elderly relative–a former nurse during the Great Depression–insisting I shouldn’t be breaking bones because I was too young. It must be a mistake. The mistake was allowing her to rail at me as if doing so would work some miracle.
The greatest error was failing to pursue a diagnosis of early, EARLY onset osteoporosis. Hello!!!! Young people can break bones and when they do, all avenues of why should be explored. Truth is, I was too young to have my bones break from a tumble on vinyl kitchen flooring. But I’ve broken serval bones between age 19 until finally, at age 39, when I was finally diagnosed with osteo after crushing my back yet again, and fracturing my wrist in multiple places.
Sand on a park sidewalk can break you.
But then we are often our worst enemies. Beware the doubt stalker. The disbeliever. The scoffer. Mr. No-It-Can’t-Be-That is evil. (I’ve had the X-rays to prove it. A Tarzan swinging-vine episode ended with me having hand surgery, too. No kidding. But we won’t go there. I’m waiting for reality TV rights to be negotiated.)
If you haven’t broken any bones, though, FANTASTIC!!! If you have had the misfortune of hearing that curdling crack and scream, regardless of your age, don’t stop at the cast if there’s any question surrounding why and how you broke yourself. The underlying mystery is worth solving!!!
Stay safe, whole, and alleviate the suspense by pursuing answers to those niggling mysteries!! You’re worth the effort!
Hugs & Happpies,
Ann
ANN MALLEY 