DISARMING

DISARMING

Since my grandson, Joseph, fractured his arm today (10/7), I thought it would be appropriate to recount my one experience with a fracture. It is an amazingly similar circumstance.

I played pick-up basketball regularly on Monday nights at the local elementary school for many years from 1972 into the 1980's. One night, in the Winter of 1974 I think, while playing with our usual group, I was accidentally tripped and fell hard to the floor. Instinctively, I put both hands in front of me to break the fall. I knew immediately I had a problem. I went to the locker room and managed to shower and dress. My arms only hurt when I moved them. I was able to drive my car by manipulating the steering wheel with my fingers without moving my arms.

I was afraid my young wife, with three baby girls at home, wouldn't handle the situation very well, so I stopped at my brother-in-law's house which was on my way home. It wasn't normal for me to just drop in on Bill and Barb at about 9 pm on a weeknight but he didn't blink and offered me a beer. We sat down in his family room to watch the Monday night football game and made small talk. After a few minutes, he asked what the hell was up. I told him I needed a ride to the hospital and he freeked out for a minute. Bill could be excitable at times but was usually as laid back as I am. He finally laughed and we finished the beer we had opened and headed for Bethesda North Hospital at about 10 pm.

It was a slow night at the emergency room and we didn't have to wait too long to see a doctor. An Asian intern took care of me. He, of course, asked where it hurt and sent me for x-rays. Both of my arms hurt equally and I couldn't tell if my wrists or elbows hurt worse. They x-rayed both wrists and both elbows. This was all a rather slow process. I was still in quite a bit of pain. Some time after 11 pm, my doctor came out and proclaimed that he had looked at my x-rays and nothing was broken. He offered me pain medicine but I declined saying, "If nothing is broken, I can stand the pain."

We called my wife from the emergency room and Bill drove me home at near midnight. I slid gingerly into bed and spent an excruciating night without much sleep. When it came time to get up for work, I decided that I would have to take the day off.

About 8 am, the phone rang and my wife answered it. It was a nurse from the office of our family doctor. She called to say that they recommended a certain orthopedic group and had made an appointment for me for later that morning. Of course, we didn't know what she was talking about. It turns out that an experienced x-ray technician comes on duty at the hospital at seven in the morning and reads all of the x-rays from the night before. This person discovered that I had a split in my left radial ball.

My arm was cast later that day and I had almost immediate relief from pain. I can remember this young, overweight doctor interviewing me while eating from a small bag of potato chips. He explained that they would only leave the cast on for two weeks because people with this kind of break never regain full movement of their arm when the cast is left on for the normal 4-6 weeks. It seems calcium forms in the joint when its not in use and the bone is knitting.

Two weeks later, he took a power saw to my cast which extended from just above my elbow to my hand keeping my arm bent at about a 120 degree angle. He zipped it right off. No problem. Then, he took hold of my wrist with one hand and my upper arm with the other and jerked it as straight as it would go. I thought I would faint. I didn't cry but I could have. The pain settled down and he explained that if I wanted my arm to be able to straighten out fully, I would have to do therapy at home. I did it faithfully and everything worked out well. I remember carrying the garbage cans out to the curb with that one arm and squeezing a ball at every opportunity
for months.

As far as I know, that was the only bone I ever fractured. I think I've been pretty lucky.