Here We Go Again…
By: Larry Gordon
After all these decades of traveling here and there, I’ve assumed a different and a somewhat less prominent role. You see, last Sunday evening at a yahrzeit seudah for my bother Binyomin (his first), I attracted an inordinate amount of unwanted attention which I would have preferred not to.
In short, I was walking into another room when I apparently mistook a step for the floor, got my foot caught, and took a flop that I cannot recall ever taking at any point in my life prior to this. It was a little like skydiving, except the trip down took only about a second. If even that.
It was a hard impact on a solid wood floor. And it was kind of embarrassing, to say the least, but in the aftermath, it seems that embarrassment was the least of my problems.
Before I could even stand, I realized that as I fell, I heard something break. Actually, it was more of a squeaking or separating sound. So, for a few minutes, I just sat there dazed, looking around, realizing that whatever damage I managed to do by falling was not going to go away as quickly as I would have wanted.
It was at this point that I called my friend, Hatzalah coordinator, Howie Kafka, to ask him what he thought I should do. The minute I asked him the question, I realized how silly it was. I mean, he’s not going to tell me to go home, sleep it off, and everything will be fine in the morning. No siree.
Instead, Howie offered to send me an ambulance to take me to the ER at Mount Sinai or to an urgent care facility in Long Beach where I could get an immediate X-ray and care.
The great thing about this Long Beach facility is that at least when we got there it was quiet and—as far as patients are concerned—empty. So, after a quick X-ray and a few other things, the photos of my humerus showed a hairline fracture in the upper right portion, which might not look like much on film, but as insignificant as it looks, that’s how great the pain was.
Let’s just say that if I was a ballplayer, there’s a good chance I’d have to sit out the rest of the season. In the beginning, the slightest movement sent waves of stabbing pain up my arm. Now, ten days later, the pain is not completely gone, but there are some definite changes. For example, it’s still uncomfortable, but I can pretty much put on my own tefillin. That is, the tefillin shel yad. I still need help with the tefillin shel rosh because I have trouble reaching way up above my head to complete the process.
At the very beginning, there was a pervasive pain that was hard to ignore. I don’t recommend doing this, but after consulting with both medical doctors and ChatGPT, I have a fairly accurate idea of what to expect.
There’s some disagreement on how long the pain will last. Most say 4 to 6 weeks; others say 6 to 8 weeks. The real question is how much of that troublesome and annoying pain one can tolerate and still function. My guess is that after 4 to 6 weeks, there will still be some lingering pain, but after about 8 weeks, I’m hoping it will be completely gone. The 4-to-6-week parameter might be referring to pain that is still there but is tolerable. That’s an important distinction.
The reality is that at some point in our lives, especially as we get older, we all deal with some amount of pain. Without going into too much detail, let’s just say that there’s pain from injuries like the flop I took last week, and then there’s pain that just comes with age and time.
I still recall one of my grandmothers using the pain she felt in her knees to predict when it was going to rain. On a similar but unrelated matter, my father used to be fond of saying that any day he washed his car was a sure predictor of when it was going to rain the next day.
Anyway, back to my arm. At the ER in Long Beach, they sent me home with a thin flimsy sling that they said I should wear for the next couple of weeks. After a few days, we ordered a more substantial sling, something that offers more security and comfort for my arm.
Just about everyone I encounter wants to know what happened to my arm. The simple answer is I fell and fractured a bone between my elbow and shoulder. Of course, I’m extremely fortunate that I didn’t break my elbow or shoulder. Hashem’s goodness comes in many forms, including an inch or so here and there.
It’s bothersome and uncomfortable, but I think I’m learning how to live with it day by day. My guess is that I will be completely accustomed to the pain once it’s completely gone. It’s just one of those things.
Someone mentioned to me the other day how young kids are able to jump around and fall, only to pick themselves up and jump and fall some more. I think the older we get the harder it is to get up quickly without any damage. Perhaps it’s also a question of how much slower we heal as we age.
So, I just want to clarify that I didn’t fall indiscriminately. The step that was camouflaged by the wooden floor genuinely looked like one continuous stretch of wooden floor. Obviously, it wasn’t. After the fall, I sat there in disbelief more than in actual pain. More than anything else, this entire ordeal might be an important lesson in life: it takes a second to fall, but to crawl your way back, that might take a bit longer and involve some pain. That’s life.
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