Welcome to “Tell The Truth Thursday” where the question that has been posted in my right side bar gets answered by me and you! Did you prepare your post and are you ready to drop your URL into the Linky so that we all can follow? Grab the thumb above linking it back to this blog posting and let’s get started…
The question this week is :
- Have you ever broken any bones? If so when, where and how. If not, I want to know how you have been so lucky!!!
You will all know exactly how klutzy I am by the end of this story.
When Alyssa was three years old and Brittany was eight, my ex-husband and I took them on vacation to Colorado where his sister lived. Needless to say, we were all very excited.
As I always do, I made lists and prepared for a glorious vacation in the snow covered mountains. Alyssa had never been in snow and I was so eager to show her what it was all about since I just love, love, love cold, wintry weather.
I had purchased everything that Brittany and Alyssa would need to stay warm…snow boots, bibs, ski jackets, gloves, hats, thick socks and turtleneck shirts. With each item of clothing that we bought, their excitement grew and grew.
At last the time arrived and we set off for snow country. On our second day in Colorado, I was running up my sister-in-laws carpeted stairs to the second floor bedroom. My sock covered feet slipped out from under me and since I was leaning forward as I plowed up the stairs, my arms did not have time to come forward to break my fall. Obviously, I wasn’t holding the handrail either.
This is when the slow motion movie scene starts because I remember the whole experience just that way.
I felt my right, white sock clad foot slip off the beige carpeted stair as my momentum to continue moving forward kept me in motion. It was a movement that I desperately needed to stop. Just as I started pulling in my arms to put my hands in a protective position, the TOP CENTER of my nose hit the edge of a step on the stairs. I heard a crack, saw blue flashes, felt hot pain spread over my face and then I fainted into blackness.
When I awoke, it was to a throbbing pain that seemed to begin with my nose and end at my toes. My nose hit the step with full body impact causing my nose to break and the skin on top to split open. Bright red blood splatters were on everything.
At the hospital, my face was covered with a paper thing with only my nose sticking out like the Statue of Liberty. The doctor was pleasant even though I’m sure I bent the metal of the table as I struggled to lived through the gruesome experience of having hypodermic needles stuck in my already aching and very aware nose.
I was able to choose the color thread that was used to stitch me up. I guess the doctor felt that was an exciting consolation prize, but it didn’t matter much because my face turned a black-purple-blue-brown-green-gray-yellow color.
Yes, I was beautiful and swollen for a long time.
After getting back home, I made an appointment with a plastic surgeon. He gripped the top of my nose to check it and I nearly leaped all the way from Texas to Vermont in one bound. He told me all the details involved in repairing my nose. Things like:
“I will break your nose…”
“Then the cartilage will be shaved slightly…”
“You will have gauze in your sinus cavity until your first visit after the operation…”
“There will be a drip pad under your nose to catch the drainage…”
“You won’t be able to breathe for several weeks…”
“A metal protector will have to be worn to protect your nose…”
I thanked him, walked calmly to my car, drove away and never went back again. I simply could not bear the thought of all that pain again just to fix a little break much to my mother’s dismay.
So my nose healed just a tad crooked, but not too bad.
If you get real close and I’m not wearing any makeup (which won’t happen unless you are a member of my family because I’m OCD about that makeup on pale face thing), you can see the tiny white line where I had the stitches.
Obviously, I’m not that vain.
All I have to do is weigh out the choices:
Little tiny white line down my nose with a tiny crooked spot
or
Breaking, shaving, needles, gauze, blood, bruise and pain to rid myself of something most people don’t notice anyway.
Easy choice.
but not everyone sees it.”
~Confucius~
It’s just a nose!
Now it is your turn to answer the Tell The Truth Thursday question. Enter the post URL that answers the question in the Linky below and have fun checking out everyone’s answers…
Gail says
Great story, although I would not want to live it.
I have never broken anything but do have some strange accidents and usually when I am wearing flip flops. Hubby said I should write a book, Things To NOT Do While Wearing Flip Flops!
I have had injuries that may have been broken but never checked, fingers and toes, mostly. Nothing as painful as yours, I think.
Rachel @ CrazyTown says
Ouch, ouch, ouch!!! The other day my DD accidentally head butted me in the nose and it was seeing stars for a few minutes, I can only imagine having you nose broken by that kind of fall. But at least you have a story about your crooked nose. Mine is slightly crooked too but I have no reason why, it just is. I think it gives character, or at least that's what I tell myself.
katlupe says
After reading that I am so thankful I have never broken a bone! I think you made the right choice, how could anyone stand to have their nose re-broke? Yet I know lots of people who have had "nose jobs" just because they did not like the one they came with!
Lori says
I totally felt your pain while reading your story. Glad you healed ok. I'm not a very vain person either.
I've never broken anything, I'm knocking on wood as I write this. Wait, actually I did break my toe when we moved in to this house. I moved a bookcase and didn't think to remove the movable shelves. So, a shelf fell right on my big toe. Ouch, but I still kept moving our belongings.
Sorry you had your experience in Colorado, I hope the rest of your time here in Colorado has better memories for you.
eof777 says
Incredibly painful story… I feel for you. I would have taken your decision too. I have a very low tolerance for pain.
This was a ton of fun to write.I am not one of the "lucky" ones who survived childhood with no broken bones. I had a blast retelling my pole vaulting story!
Thank you,
Elizabeth
Holly says
OH! OUCH!! VIVID POST!! I'm a wimp and couldn't go through that by choice… the fix it part. The original experience was bad enough! I can even envision the blurred rainbow of bruising…
scottsgal says
The only bone I've broken is my toe when I dropped a huge full jar of mayo on it – ouch. Of course my kids have broken arms, noses, hands etc. part of like and athletics