Another One Bites the Dust

It is with great difficulty that I am trying to type this post. It will probably take awhile because typing with one hand is difficult.

Last week I was asked to run chains for the football games. In previous years, I've done this for most of the games. This year, due to time, family, and my knee, I haven't been helping. Several of the chain gang were committed to be out of town, so out of desperation I was asked. I should make it clear that I enjoy running chains. I love the action! I love the front line point-of-view and I LOVE FOOTBALL!

Side note:Growing up in my family, football was a big thing. I remember watching my dad coach football for Lincoln County High School. There was something about the crisp, fall nights, the cheering fans, and hot chocolate that I loved! My brothers played football. I loved high school football games! AND I was blessed with a husband that doesn't like football much, four daughters that like football players (mostly tight uniforms), and a son that would love to play football, but doesn't. The Kenny Chesney song, "Boys of Fall" reminds me of my youth. As a result, I occasionally get my football fix by running chains. At least I did until last week.

It was a cold and rainy night, there had been lightening, thunder, and hail. I was soaked from head to toe. I had worn a plastic rain poncho, but the sleeves of my "Thunderwear" sweatshirt were soaked. I thought the refs would call the game, but no luck. At the beginning of the fourth quarter, Snow Canyon scored a touchdown. I jogged to the end zone to await the extra point. Now it should be noted that the ball was catchable, but I chose to stand and watch it take a bounce. It actually bounced straight up and then nose dived for a ditch. The ball hit the ditch and instantly stopped. I chuckled and made a comment to the effect that I bet the kicker couldn't pull that off twice. I was still laughing to myself when I bent to pick up the ball. I think I remember picking up the ball with my right hand, but if so, I'm a larger idiot than I supposed. I slipped and put my left hand behind me to steady myself.

Steady is not what I did. The bones in my elbow went three different directions. I didn't think it was a good thing. I looked up to see two refs. One asked if I was okay. I told him I didn't think so. I was pretty sure I had dislocated my elbow. They called for a medic. I asked them to find someone to take my place and get the game started again. I was embarrassed. My principal, Brian Stevenson, called Phillip. "Trainer Paul" put my arm in a splint, and Tim Miller pulled me to my feet. I walked to the trainer's office and waited for Phill.

He took me to the hospital. I have joked that it would take five men and a mule to pick me up. I was close, but they couldn't find a mule. :) It took 5 strapping, buff, large men to put my elbow back. Not quite Humpty Dumpty, but they couldn't quite put me be back together again. It would require a little more specialization from Dr. Todd Parry.

On Friday October 7, after waiting all day, I had surgery to put my elbow back together. Dr. Parry isn't sure whether more surgery will be needed. I should know shortly. This week I've learned about fracture blisters (gross, painful, and icky), and what extreme pain feels like. I've learned I'm not very patient, I'm grumpy when in pain, I hate relying on others, and I don't like to sit around with one arm and no brain cells. I've learned that I have an amazing family, an awesome extended family, and wonderful friends and ward members.

I was watching "Soul Surfer" with Breanna. One of the scriptures that was quoted was from the New International Version of the Bible. It is found in Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." It doesn't match my King James version, but it did make me feel better in my drug induced depression. Hopefully this week will be an improvement. I've already lost one week, I need to recover and learn from this.