A Very Vicodin Christmas

Sometimes, things happen so fast.

One minute, I was on my feet. The next, I was on my right side, shoulder and hip numb against the ice, examining my rear driver's side tire.

The tire is fine. I, however, am not so much.

It could have been worse. Yesterday afternoon some rain moved in, and even though the brilliant weather people of the Cincy area assured us the temperature would be above freezing when said rain moved in, we were hovering steadily around 32 degrees all afternoon and early evening. It's a wonder I didn't wreck the car when I ventured out to check on my mom and pick up a pizza.

As it stands, I just wrecked my shoulder.

I put the pizza in the car and went around the back to get to my side of the car. I had seen the pizza people throw out some salt and thought I was on solid turf. I really can't even tell you the mechanics of how I fell; my feet went out from underneath me so fast I didn't have time to react, to grab onto anything. My full weight went down on my right hip and right shouder. I Fell with a capital F, which also happens to be the starting letter of the expletive that flew out of my mouth.

Just as I stood up, a man came around my car.

"Ma'am, are you alright? I heard you fall but didn't see you get up right away. You had me worried."

The stranger talked me into going back inside the pizza place to check myself out for injury before I got back in the car. Common sense overrode my mortification and I let him help me in. When no limbs turned purple in five minutes, I (carefully) went back to my car and headed home.

And cried like a baby.

You remember when you were little and you would fall and, even if the pain wasn't that bad, you couldn't help yourself from crying? It was like a reflex. That's how I felt. I wanted my mommy to check out my booboos, but Mommy had herself just been to the ER for her own hand injury that has her in a wrist brace this Christmas.

I was alone in the car and just let the tears flow. And by the time I got home, I thought I was okay.

But then at exactly three in the morning, while the house was quiet and dark and my right shoulder had my full undivided attention, it started talking to me.

"You know I'm not cool, right?" it asked.

"Yes, I do now. Are we going to get any sleep tonight?"

I didn't know shoulders could chuckle. "What do you think?"

So I've been to my doctor, who tells me nothing is broken but that two different tendon/ligament thingies in my shoulder are severely inflamed and will take 2-3 weeks to heal.

"You're lucky," he said. "I visited one of my patients in the hospital this morning who is around your age and had a fall a lot like yours on that ice. But he displaced his shoulder, broke a bunch of ribs, and knocked himself out."

Well, there's that.

I have some Vicodin to take tonight in case the shoulder starts talking to me again. It should ensure a long winter's nap, indeed.

So, if I don't see you, have a merry Christmas. I hope Santa brings you all that you desire and that are healthy and happy.

And if ice comes your way...please be careful.