Broken Bones

Did you ever break a bone?  Let me rephrase the question - have you ever broken one of your own bones?  I'm guessing most of you have not broken someone else's bones unless, of course, you are reading this from behind bars for doing that very thing.  And by now you realize you could have hired someone from the north end to do that for you for $200 and a couple of cases of beer.  Not that I've checked into this, mind you. 

I've broken two bones over my illustrious career.  It might actually be three if you count the day I went after my dog in the neighbor's yard, bent down to pick her up, she moved, and I jammed my right ring finger into the ground.  It hurt like a moose.  But, since it wasn't declared a broken bone by a doctor I can't officially count it.

Broken bone stories are one of those things that you tell to someone and you can see they are chomping at the bit for you to take a breath so they can start telling YOU about THEIR broken bone story.  It works the same way with accidents you may have gotten into with a motor vehicle.  "Hey Joe, I just got into an accident.  My car ran off of the Gold Star Bridge into the river.  I dove out of the window just in time to do a double twisting one and a half in the pike position, and landed in the water without a scratch."  "Well oh yea?!?  I was driving in Manhattan, the gas peddle stuck and I flew through the air landing in the torch of the Statue of Liberty!"  You get my drift.

Your body consists of about 206 bones so if you haven't yet broken one, be patient.  My first encounter with a broken bone happened at a basketball game that I was refereeing.  As the play was coming towards me I began to backpedal and stepped in some water that was on the gym floor.  Instead of gliding effortlessly backwards as of course I always did, my foot stuck to the floor and forgot to tell the rest of my body to stop.  What's the first thing you do when you fall?  You put your arm out to stop yourself - which is what I did.  So rather than land on my butt I landed on my right arm which was straight as an arrow behind me. I hit the floor (after my arm did) and got up slowly.  Everyone in the stands started laughing - I kid you not!  Ed, the other referee, came over to me and asked "are you all right?", the entire time holding back a laugh that I knew was going to come out as soon I spoke, regardless of how I answered his question...and it did!  I lied and said I was okay and finished the rest of the game.

Two days later when my arm was turning purple I went to the doctor (I can be a little dense sometimes) who said I had a hairline fracture near my elbow.  I asked him if he was going to put it  in a cast and he said "oh no...this is the kind of break that you have to exercise to get better."  WHAT?!!??!??  "Yes", he said, "if we were to put your arm in a cast it would freeze in that position and you would never be able to bend your elbow again."  Okay, I thought, not only did I break my arm in an embarrassing way but I don't even get a cast to show for it!  Only me...

Bone #2: It was January and we had friends up from Florida.  Their 9 year old daughter had never been in snow so she went to play outside.  When she was done she came up our back deck stairs that were loaded with ice and snow.  I went out the door to warn her about the ice and to help her up the stairs.  Oh yea, baby, you know what comes next!  I put my foot on the first step and it flies out from underneath me.  So I grab for the railing, which I barely caught - right between my ring finger and pinky finger, breaking a bone just below my pinky on the back of my hand.  So there I was, 48 years old, lived in New England my entire life, and a little  girl that had never seen snow makes it up the icy stairs with no problem, and I end up in the hospital.  There is no justice!  Not that I wanted her to get hurt, but why me?  Who just said why not?!?  (By the way, I found the picture shown above on the internet - and it is exactly where my hand was broken.  Which leads me to my next question...which one of you took that picture of me in the hospital?)

So there you have it.  Now let's hear your broken bone stories...I'm sure they are doozies!  The moral to this story?  I recommend that you do not break any bones...it will ruin your day.  But it WILL, however, give you material for a blog!