how I learned to be a one-armed man

First off, I had to crash my back in order to cause the proper injury. So, when I was on my way back home from town on Wednesday, I turned onto my little home straight and halfway down the street, I managed to somehow suddenly crash onto my right side, specifically squarely on my shoulder. It was the strangest thing, really, it was as if the bike was suddenly in violently yanked out from under me, as if by the hand of God himself. Or Satan. 

Anyway, the young men nearby who were working on building a house, rushed to my aid, helped me to my feet, and it was immediately clear to me that my shoulder was dislocated. At the very least. Later, at the doctor's office, I was to find that the shoulder was broken in three places. 

I was helped back to my house by the aforesaid workers and ultimately joined by a parade of neighbors as well, one of whom offered to drive me to the hospital. 

That seemed like a good idea. 

So off we went to the emergency department and finally saw a doctor. Got an x-ray. Got an echocardiogram. And so on. 

The shoulder was in need of an operation, I was told, but the surgeon decided that we would have to wait until Monday because I am on blood thinners for a previous stroke. 

Given the severe pain I was having by the time I got back home, waiting nearly 4 days for surgery seemed ridiculous. By this time, everyone knew of the incident and begin calling around to different hospitals. Finally, Louise suggested a hospital where she has a friend - - in fact, the chief administrator of the hospital. Viewing the X-ray online, the doctor at this hospital disagreed with waiting because of a blood thinner, considering the injury an emergent situation. 

So off again to the new hospital and another ER and more tests and IV lines and so on. 

In the meantime, Evelyn in Java had heard of the accident and immediately booked a ticket to fly here and stay with me in the hospital. 

Gosh, people here are kind and decent. It always amazes me. 

While we waited for Louise and Wayne to come pick me up in their car, a score of neighbors hung around with me on my patio, brought me food, cut up some fruit for me, discussed all the mechanics of the incident. 

By the way, I should mention that it was not God or the devil who pushed my bike over. As it turned out, there was a cable across the road, like an internet cable, and as I drove over it, it wound into the spokes of my wheel and yanked the bike out from under me. Talk about freak accidents. 

To make a long story short, I was checked into the hospital, Evelyn arrived, and the next thing I knew I was in surgery and under total anesthesia. Which was a relief. I kind of wish I could have stayed that way. 

Now, back home again since Saturday, I must wear a sling on my right arm at all times. And when sleeping, I must lie only on my left arm. I am to move the arm as a little as possible for the next two weeks. 

So this is where learning to be a one-armed man comes into play. And I can tell you, it is not easy. Especially when every movement you make sends a shrieking pain through your shoulder and back. 

How to put on clothing with one arm? Well, there are ways. You have to employ special and unusual maneuvers to pull on pants or put a shirt over your head, or put on your socks. The whole incident is giving me a new found sense of respect and amazement for one armed men.

Unfortunately, Evelyn has had to go back home, this being Sunday now, and so I am on my own. Well, the dogs are here, but they are really not much help. More of a hindrance really. It is up to me alone now to discover how one-armed men prepare meals, for example, or shower, or dry after showering, or wash the dishes, or do the laundry. And so on. 

To make things worse, my pre-existing condition with degenerative disc disease is made much worse than usual, as, naturally, the entire back has been traumatized then twisted about. 

One armed men are not happy campers, as far as I can tell so far. But they have to learn to live this way. There's no other option. 

Obviously, I won't be driving the motorbike for some time to come. One armed men do not drive motorbikes. And so the only way out of the house is to get a ride from Grabcar. So I have to pay if I want to go anywhere, and I have to pay to get back again. But at least I don't have to pay for the gas!