Brittle Bones

    You know your are over forty when for the first time in your life you take a spill on your bike and you actually break a bone.  You just don’t go for the normal bruises and scrapes that you might have gotten twenty years ago.  You go for it all when you actually hear the pop as you hit the textured concrete sideways and begin rolling to a stop landing on your butt sitting upright on your backpack.  The good news is I did this on the day where I had some very big deliverables due at work so not only did I go to the hospital, I have missed now two days of functionality and it is at a time when I can least afford to be out.  Sarcasm.
    Ah, the joy of stress that can only be alleviated by morphine tablets that I get to take every six hours.  Pop one of those in your mouth and you suddenly stop caring about what it is you did or didn’t do.  The joy of drugs I guess.  Anyway back to the point.  I had gone forty two years without breaking anything.  I consistently bragged about never having broken a single bone in my body.  Everything was intact as it was when I first entered the world with some slight wear and tear that is.  Then I decided on a bright sunny Wednesday morning to jump on the bike as I do many mornings and head off to work.  I get all of the way there as I am flying through the parking lot listening to my headphones and rocking my head in rhythm to the beat.  I remember thinking as I approached the sidewalk that I was going to fast but with the wind in my face and the music consuming my mind I still held the youthful feeling of invulnerability.
    It didn’t take me long as I made my turn ending up in the flowerbed catching my tire on something that abruptly halted the forward progress of my bike while sending me sailing over the handlebars hurling shoulder first in an arching downward motion.  As I lay there trying to catch my breath a man approached and asked me if I needed some help.  Good Samaritans are still out there in the world I guess.  I politely said no I just needed to take a break, recover form my embarrassment and head to the showers to doctor my scrapes.  After taking about five minutes to gather my thoughts I made my first attempt to get up and failed.  It is an eerie feeling trying to get up and having the frailty wash over you like a wave that you are not capable.  I was unable to stand and or even move without a sharp searing pain in my shoulder.
    Two more men were now approaching heading off to start their day and they as well asked me if I could use a helping hand.  This time I accepted their generosity as one offered his hand bracing me up and the other one grabbed my belongings.  I managed to make it to the lobby cradling my left arm with my right as I held it in place keeping it from moving more than a fraction in any direction.  I now understand that breaking your clavicle is a rather common thing for active individuals but the shooting pain it causes is horrendous.  Interesting enough there is nothing that anyone can do for you as well.  No cast, no brace nothing but a sling to keep your arm as immobile as possible.  And drugs.
    I am not a huge fan of chemical alleviation of pain as when you are in pain your body is trying to tell you something.  It is giving you a message that there is an issue.  If you subdue that message you can at times cause more harm than good.  That was before.  Currently I believe in taking as many pills as I am given.  Having a broken bone that moves around every time you lift a finger is like having somebody holding a knife in your shoulder and twisting it periodically just for spite.
    I now have the pleasure of sitting in front of the TV, writing as much as I can and drifting in and out of the drug induced zombie like state responding to most inquiries with “ya dude” and “what’s up”.  Hopefully I get over this quickly so I can get back out there and keep my brittle body from degrading anymore than it already has.