frickin frack-ture

Yeah, so... Here are some words to fill in the blanks between those pictures from Saturday...

I done went and broke a bone on Saturday while playing volleyball at the beach. Yes, one of my own bones... and, thank Buddha, I didn't take anyone else out in the process. It happened when I banged my arm into the base of one of the net posts while diving for a ball.

We'd gotten a gorgeous day at the beach. 60 percent chance of rain turned out to be 100 percent awesome. =)

Early clouds of grey quickly blew and boiled away to reveal blue and sunny skies...

I was looking forward to a few good hours of "iron man" CR vball with a total crew of 4—Darcy, Beth, Andrew and myself. The net went up at about 10.30 and by the time I broke myself, we had played two games already and just started a third. I dug a ball and got it coming down a might tight to the net. Partner Beth did an awesome job of getting to it and popping it up, but it was still tight and going to the outside of the net on the right side. Unfortunately, I'd gambled that it would come off the net farther, so I was probably back at 15 feet. Most of you know how I play, so you can guess what I'd do, right? I threw myself at the ball, forward and sideways, out to the right, with my right arm out in front. I got the ball up, but at an angle that sent it into the net (boo). The play was over, but the momentum of my dive kept me moving out to the right and instinctively, I figured I'd just roll it out on the sand. Unfortunately, my right arm, still extended, crossed the center line, and while my body continued to move right, my arm stopped abruptly with a bang, colliding with the home-made wooden base I use to keep the net posts from sinking into the sand.


My hand went numb for a few seconds, but it wasn't doing anything obviously Wrong, like pointing 90 degrees in the wrong direction, y'know? I rubbed at the point of contact a while as a dull pain settled into my arm. Once I brushed away most of the sand, I found a bloody scratch, not bleeding, but red, from some missing skin. The drying blood marked a straight inch and a half slash across my right forearm, about halfway between my elbow and wrist. After a minute or so of running level 2 self-diagnostics, I managed to get myself up and into a chair. Darcy and Andrew went thru their first aid kits looking for supplies to help me clean and bandage. They also produced an ice pack for me to apply to keep down any swelling. After a few minutes, the ice numbed the dull throb in my arm, and I found that I had my full range of motion in my right hand and arm, but towards extreme positions, felt molasses-like resistance and more dull pain. I couldn't lift or push but the lightest and smallest things, but I really didn't think I'd broken anything. I expected that if I had, attempting to move my arm would bring on stars and tweety birds, blackout pain, y'know? So, we hung out a while. It had turned into a grand morning to be at the beach. Once I agreed w everyone else that I was not gonna play anymore that day, we broke down the net. They handled the heavy lifting, of course. We took a dip in the really pleasant (warm, for New England, at least =) ocean, just after high tide. Ocean water's good for cleaning a cut, right? The others helped me get my stuff to the car, and then I drove a half hour or so (tho I probably shouldn't have–huzzah for automatic transmission!) to get myself to an e/r near home. Almost three waiting hours later, my arm was x-rayed and the e/r doc explained to me that I had fractured my ulna, the smaller of the two forearm bones. Fun!


The doc set me up with a splint, bandages, and a sling... which, incidentally, makes typing this out a pretty time-consuming exercise. No biggie, tho, I've got a dvr'd MAD MEN playing in the background. Totally dig it, btw. A gorgeous drama bout a Madison Ave ad firm in the 1950s, but really about so much more. Check it out on AMC (and OnDemand for a while)!

I found out this morning that my follow-up with an ortho specialist is supposed to happen on Thursday, when I presume I'll get a full-on cast of some type and the official doctor's orders regarding how long I'm not allowed to play volleybal. The e/r doc told me it would be four to six weeks. Nuts. I couldn't do this to myself in September?

*sigh*

SO! I'm not available to play or to sub for at least a month. Depending on the details of the care and feeding of my cast, I may or may not continue to organize weekend trips to the beach. (Confidentially, I'm leaning towards "may." It *is* still a day at the beach after all! =)

It also means, work allowing, I'm more likely to be free to catch a weeknight movie. Not like I get a lot of requests for that, but I may have more opportunities to instigate some outings on my own and catch up on some flicks I've let slip by, as well as get back into the Brattle swing of things. I sorta lost steam a couple weeks after the SHAUN screening and have been an absentee member for months now.

Some of my vball buds may be wondering... "brian, have you learned your lesson?"

I know I'm stubborn and foolish about the go-for-everything way I play, and probably missing a piece of my brain, but the answer is yes, a resounding yes! This incident has definitely opened my eyes...

Something has got to change!

=)

Keep on keepin on~

p.s. Actually, I may just swap the wooden bases for plastic "sand kit" ones, or frisbees, which I've used in the past.

p.p.s. This sucks.