Fortunately, Marty is a Lefty

Friday I was talking to Ms. Ainsley, explaining to her March had been totally batty and I was looking forward to normalcy. She replied, "It can only go up from here." 

Oh, if only. 

Saturday night, Marty slipped in the bathroom. Three EMTs and a bored Wake Village Fire department (who came out for sport) later, he was off the ground and on his way to the emergency room with a dislocated shoulder. I would like to give a shout-out to the EMT who found a piece of cloth and Maguivered a sling for poor Marty, whose right arm dangled limply in an unnatural state. 

And here's the difference between big-city life and small town life. The EMTs told us one of the two hospitals wasn't taking patients at that moment. Therefore, they suggested we bypass both hospitals (the second hospital was taking the overflow) and go directly to the urgent care "near the convention center," instead. When I pulled up, I left the engine running, ran inside to ask for assistance and came back to find my husband, my car and my purse right where I left them. After shuffling Marty into the facility, I ran back in with my insurance card. And what do you know, my running car, my purse and my phone were still right where I left them.  

This wasn't your run-of-the mill dislocation either. I googled it later. Less than 1 percent of the population actually get posterior dislocations (combined with a clavicle fracture to boot). It took three burly men and a lot of morphine to put Marty's arm back in the socket. They had to actually move his arm to the other side of his clavicle prior to popping it back into place. 

All the while, Morphined-Marty was muttering, "that hurts." 

The doctor looked at me in the middle of this and said, "If it wasn't for the pain killers, he'd be screaming right now." 

Marty remembers none of this, including how the stabilization sling managed to be fashioned on him while he was laying down.

Oh yes, here's another tid-bit about small town life: HIPPA laws are a mere suggestion. I got to hang out in the room while all this was going on. I also helped them with the sling. I called the orthopedic today and they had no problem with my suggestion of looking at my file from last year to get our insurance info for Marty. What they did question was why we had 480 as our area code for phone numbers. Then I called Marty's primary care physician and asked that his medication be refilled, because he isn't driving for a bit. Could they send it to the Wake Village pharmacy please? Nobody there asked my name or for mine or his credentials.  

At this point, I'm hoping my maddening March will be showing promise of calming down sometime mid-April.