Life as a waterfall by allher

This is not the blog that I had intended to write. Most ironically, I had planned to write a blog about the safety net (see my next post), and about how our social relations function as a safety net, allowing us to experiment–to take steps in the dark–and thereby reach new levels of achievement and understanding. Sometimes, however, the lack of a safety net can perform a similar function. Sometimes, wisdom can be gained from a fall.

Sometimes, however, the lack of a safety net can perform a similar function. Sometimes wisdom can be gained from a fall. 

Friday morning was promising. The rainy weather was changing for the better. At breakfast, my husband, Brock, read an article to me from the Smithsonian Magazine written by Roy Rowan, and entitled Do Not Go Gently (April 2009: 104). The article was a reminder that our sunset years will only be golden years to the extent that we actively live them, substituting the wisdom of our experiences for the vigor of our youth. Inspired, we set out, ready to conquer the day.

What happened next, according to the doctor, was a perfect storm; events converged to bring about a crash. All revved up, my husband rose from his chair, pivoted on his (some might say) sizable feet, and, caught up in the momentum, kept turning until he landed on the floor–his shoulder (the one most damaged by the multiple myeloma) taking the brunt of the fall. Letting out a scream of pain, like no other scream I have ever heard, he crawled to a chair in which he buried his head. What to do? With him wearing nothing but a bathrobe, the real challenge was getting him dressed, all the while he was writhing and screaming. Up went the jeans, inch by inch, over his bended knees, around his buttock, finally coming together at his waist. Unable to move his large-size frame, I called am ambulance, which took him to the ER at Sibley Memorial Hospital.

Amidst all this chaos, Brock–finding a measure of humor in this ridiculous, albeit horrendous, situation, blurted out: well, at least this will make good dinner party conversation.

Amidst all of this chaos, Brock–finding a measure of humor in this ridiculous, albeit horrendous, situation, blurted out: well, at least this will make good dinner party conversation! Taken back for a moment, I thought: much as Rowan had advised in his article, we were making the most of life’s adventures, be they what they may.

Sibley turned out to be a good choice.  The first orthopedist we encountered was Dr. Benjamin Shaffer, who by luck was performing surgery at Sibley. He stopped by for a consultation, and advised us that Brock needed immediate attention. Brock’s fall had not only splintered a number of bones in his shoulder, some of which had torn the soft tissues, he had also dislocated his shoulder. There was no time to waste, he said. The primary physician for the Capitals, who were playing a major game that night, Dr. Schaffer could not do the surgery himself. So he turned us over to his equally capable partner Dr. Jonas Rudski, who, late in the evening, performed Brock’s operation, and was stellar in every possible way.

Brock, at Sibley

On Technorati: Brock Evans, facing a challenge, making the most of life, rising to the occasion, staying in the ring