The snow then rain of the overnight and morning hours reminded me of an event from high school. Mom and I were out shopping at Marshall’s one night with a plan to go to Friendly’s afterward. As we exited the store, cold rain fell atop ice on the ground. Mom said, “Be careful, it’s going to be slippery.” And I, with my infinite teenage wisdom rolled my eyes and said, “yeah, yeah, I know.”
Clad in my white painter’s pants (it was the late 70s, everyone was wearing them) with my purse and a bag of new purchases from Marshalls, I stepped onto the parking lot as if it were a dry, spring day. My feet flew out from under me, I went airborne, and I landed on my arse with a thud in a cold puddle on top of some ice.
The whole thing happened in a nanosecond. I picked myself up from the ice and admitted to Mom that she was correct. I was more mad that my pants were soaked and we would no longer be going to Friendly’s. We had a great laugh over that event for many years. I still laugh about the memory of it now.
This afternoon, I took a break from being a desk jockey and ventured out to check on the front steps and walk. It had been raining all day. Water was puddled about an inch deep at the foot of the stairs. Generally, when that happens, I relocate it with a shovel, so I grabbed one to get busy. It was too hard to execute while standing on the stairs, so I stepped into the puddle with my Hush Puppies rain boots. One snow shovel full of water was flung onto the snow on the lawn.
I backed up a step for a second shovel full. My feet flew out from under me and I went airborne, just like that night in high school. My arse landed in a puddle atop ice (just another little bit of history repeating). Unlike that slick puddle night of long ago, the heel of my hand slammed onto the ground and pain roared through my left wrist. I got up from the puddle quickly lest the neighbors see my sitting in a puddle. The shovel was abandoned at the scene of the incident. All the while, my mouth uttered “oh f*ck, oh f*ck, oh f*ck” all the way into the house.A few things happened after that. I got very dizzy and lightheaded and laid down on the dining room floor in case I fainted. I felt like my lunch would be expelled onto the rug. My wrist throbbed and began to swell.
My lovely Kiki, who awoke from her nap on the chair, looked at me. I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them, Kiki was gone. Note: This is the opposite of what the dogs would have done. They would have surrounded and protected and licked away the hurt.
It was not lost on me that I had remembered the more comical ice fall of years ago hours earlier. I slithered out of my coat.
With one hand, I typed a Teams message to work that I had felled myself on the ice, felt awful, and was going to lie down for a few minutes. I ended up being offline the rest of the afternoon. The dizziness and nausea eventually subsided.
The next couple hours involved laying on the couch with chilled gel packs on my throbbing, swollen wrist. It’s amusing (to me anyway) that an injury caused by ice is being treated with ice.
With one hand, I called my doctor’s office and learned it was closed. With one hand, an Internet search was done for urgent care centers near me for their hours and if they have x-ray services.![]() |
Indoor ice. |
Internet searches were done about “signs of a sprained wrist.” I'm pretty sure it's not broken and I think it's sprained. The suggested rest-ice-compression-elevation protocol was enacted.
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Compression-elevation. |
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