A funny thing happened at the roller rink

I broke my damn arm!!!  How's that for a story?

It seems that rollerskating with your children, while earning you cool points with your kids, can be hazardous to your bones.

It’s interesting the range of emotions you feel when you break something. The still-hiding-inside little girl thinks it’s kind of cool and starts wondering what color of a cast you may pick out. The damsel in distress thinks how great it will be to have your husband care for your every whim while you are laid up unable to do anything for yourself. The practical mom screams out loud “How in the hell am I going to get anything done?”

Then your doctor mentions the possibility of surgery, and the chicken shit in all of us loses her lunch. Figuratively of course, not literally.

I was lucky; I didn’t need surgery on my fractured radius. In fact, much to the little girls chagrin I didn’t even get a bright purple cast. I was instructed to start moving it as soon as possible, do a few simple movement exercises every day and start physical therapy after my vacation. Yippy.

In the meantime I have to remind the practical mom that it’s broken because when instincts and reflexes take over you tend to you use your arm. Your dominant arm. In my case my right arm. And it hurts when you use it let me tell you.

So we’re off to Drummond Island for our annual vacation in the Upper Peninsula, broken radius be damned. Of course “curling” is very therapeutic. As in, curling-your-arm-to-bring-that drink-to-your-mouth, which is a very treasured activity on this vacation. We shall see how much flexibility it can restore.