In honor of Black Cat Appreciation Day 2018, a poem dedicated to Moses:

There once was a stray black kitty
Taken in by a family in Jeff City.
.    But Skeeter’s annoyed
.    He was not renamed Floyd,
Because, for a boy, he’s quite pretty.

Update: sadly, a few months after this piece was published, our beautiful Skeeter Bug passed away from kidney failure. He was the best cat ever and is sorely missed each and every day.

Not bad for an epileptic dog with a predisposition for pancreatitis.

Happy Birthday to the best dog ever!

It took some doing to get here, but today turned out to be a pretty special day.

October 22 – Little did I know, standing at the intersection of Academy Boulevard North and Jannie Drive in Colorado Springs as I gingerly explored the edges of a broken collarbone under my skin, what an ordeal recovery would become. The nice off-duty EMT who stopped at the accident site assured me that it was a common motor vehicle accident injury. As did the ER doc and the radiologist who made me raise my arm over my head for one of the views. (First major ouch.) I was released with an arm sling, a couple of prescriptions and a recommendation to see my own doctor for follow-up once I returned home.

Sitting through the soccer game and the hour or so van ride back to Denver wasn’t too bad, thanks to some heavy duty meds. Fortunately I was TSA Pre-Checked and sailed through security, although the sling probably helped. I converted my camera backpack to a right shoulder sling and draped my coat over my left shoulder and was good to go on the long walk to our gate. The agent who helped me switch out my exit row seat to one next to Laura also allowed both of us to pre-board. Unfortunately we had quite a bit of turbulence. It helped to put my right hand directly over my injury to keep it still, a little. (Second major ouch.)

October 24 – I see my regular physician. He says he thought the break would heal normally over the next six weeks, and prescribes a shoulder extender that he thought would be more comfortable. I visit two orthopedic shops and call several pharmacies only to find that it is a specialty item that will take several days to arrive. Frustrated, I text an orthopedic physician that attends my church, who makes room in his schedule the next day.

October 25 – I visit the orthopedic physician. X-rays show a 2cm displacement, on the cusp of needing surgical repair. He outfits me with a figure-8 brace (much better than the sling) and puts me on a two-week watch and wait with instructions to come back in if one of the bone ends starts protruding.

October 28 – I sneeze, violently. I feel it coming but am powerless to do anything other than throw my hand over my collarbone. I feel the ends of the bones rolling under the skin. (Third major ouch.) And just like that, one of the broken ends is much more prominent. Unfortunately it is Saturday morning, so nothing can be done but to get through the weekend.

October 31 – Another visit to the orthopedic physician. The followup X-rays show that the ends of the collarbone, previously overlapping, have moved apart and are no longer likely to heal properly on their own. He and his partner recommend that I see a trauma surgeon in Columbia.

November 2 – The first available consult with the trauma surgeon is November 28. Surgery will be scheduled shortly after. I am not at all happy about the delay. They later call back with a November 14 appointment. My orthopedic physician calls to see about a different surgeon, but they are both booked solid.

November 3 – A highly recommended local orthopedic surgeon is able to see me the following Thursday. The appointment is later moved up to Tuesday.

November 7 – The local surgeon tells me that he likes to do clavicle repairs within two weeks of the initial injury. I am just beyond that, so surgery is scheduled for the next day.

November 8 – The anesthesiologist recommends a brachial plexus nerve block for better pain control after the surgery. It is standard procedure, but one of the risks is a droopy face. This being my left side, I decline the block. The anesthesiologist, surgeon, and Phil all think I should reconsider, so I do. The surgeon tells us that he plated the broken ends, also having to screw together two additional bone fragments. I am sent home back in the sling. The nerve block should wear off over three days.

November 11 – My hand is still completely numb. Unfortunately it is once again a weekend.

November 13 – The orthopedic surgeon’s nurse tells me that I must have gotten a really good nerve block. I insist that something is wrong and get an appointment for the next day.

November 14 – The surgeon is pleased with my incision healing. He removes 15 surgical staples, replacing them with steri-strips. He examines my arm and what movement has returned. He thinks that I will eventually regain use of my wrist and hand, but it may take a while. Meanwhile he puts me in a wrist brace so that my hand is not flopping around, gives me some stretching exercises for my fingers and prescribes neurontin for the pins and needles. Then he sends me upstairs for an EMG. After that most enjoyable series of shocks and pricks, that doc says I have every reason to hope for the best, but again, when is anyone’s guess. He does say weeks rather than months. He does not think it was due to the block entering the nerve because there are so many non-responsive nerves, and instead calls it a “conduction event.” I discuss with both doctors the side effect of my pudendal block years ago as well as my neurosurgeon’s comments about my facial nerve during my microvascular decompression surgery. They both agree that I am not a good candidate for future nerve blocks.

November 16 – The orthopedic surgeon calls to discuss my nerve scan (EMG). The nerves are intact, but not conducting. Basically I wait and watch and stretch my fingers (which really hurts btw) and hopefully heal. On the plus side, I have some movement in my shoulder and elbow, and can curl my fingers slightly (although I can’t straighten them). I feel pressure, temperature, itching, texture and TONS of pins and needles. Today I noticed that the bruises on my breastbone and shoulder are really tender. That has to be a good sign.

Which brings us to today, March 1 – I have been released from occupational therapy! Grip strength and pinch are back to normal in my left hand, and have even increased in the right. I have less sensitivity in my fingertips so I can type with both hands. I have much less numbness in my left hand and have every reason to hope that it was due to residual nerve irritation rather than carpal tunnel. I only had to utilize 17 of 41 prescribed visits.

There was that instant on October 22 when we were in the wrong place at the wrong time and my collarbone was broken in an auto accident. There was a second instant November 9 when I wish I had followed my gut instinct to forego a nerve block, but caved to the recommendation of others. In both instances things could have turned out worse, and I feel blessed to be where I am now. Thanks to everyone who has offered prayers and good thoughts, kind deeds and support. It’s meant the world to me.

Note: I have chosen not to identify health care practitioners publicly, other than Dr. Gemoules, whom I previously discussed in relation to my LaserFit lenses. Anyone desiring a recommendation is welcome to ask for a private recommendation.

It’s true that life can change in an instant. Even when you’re lucky.

Last October Laura and I traveled to Colorado Springs to see Kyle play soccer. We had also gone the year before, a quick, exhausting in-and-out trip to Denver that wore us both out and led to the decision that we should try a more extended, relaxing trip next time.

So we doubled our days from two to four. We arrived in time to tour Garden of the Gods.

We met up with Kyle, and later his family to see the first of two soccer matches.

We visited Pike’s Peak with Kyle’s family. Cold, crazy experience. I was so light-headed at the peak that I staggered into other sightseers. Not that they weren’t staggering too! Brrr.

Sunday morning, October 22, we decided to visit the zoo before Kyle’s matinee game. I was excited to see the giraffes. We checked out of the hotel on a lovely, clear morning. We left the hotel parking lot and headed toward the thoroughfare.

The next thing we knew, the car was no longer moving and full of airbags. I don’t remember feeling or hearing the impact. I asked Laura if she was all right; she was asking me the same thing. She did not want to get out of the car because we couldn’t see where we were and didn’t know if it was safe, so we stayed inside the car.

Within a couple of minutes someone was banging on my car door asking if we were all right. I said that I thought so. A man opened the door and we both exited on the driver side. Immediately I asked if the occupants of the other car were all right. The man told me that he didn’t know because the driver had taken off. I got a good look at the rental car, and it looked terrible.

The whole front end had been taken off and bits of Jetta were scattered everywhere. The windshield was broken on the passenger side and I began to worry that Laura had hit her head, but she assured me that she hadn’t. About this time an off-duty EMT stopped by and asked to examine us. Starting with me because I was driving, she asked me a bunch of questions, including who was president of the United States and how many quarters were in $3.50. Fourteen, by the way. I was correct and she stopped worrying about concussion. She asked me about pain and I realized that my shoulder was tender. We both touched it and found a bump on the collarbone – likely fracture.

She then checked Laura over, who had spent the intervening time contacting Kyle, his mom and Phil.

The first responders arrived and ordered an ambulance. The firefighters were great. They found our eyeglasses in the wreckage and loaded all of our personal gear in the ambulance, even the wine and hard cider we had bought for Christmas gifts, which was somehow still intact after the collision. They did say that one second further into the intersection and I wouldn’t have been walking away – they would have been extracting me with jaws of life.

The ambulance crew called to find out the least busy ER and we were off. Once there Laura and I were separated for our respective exams, which I found very stressful. I was taken to Xray, and was diagnosed with a fractured left clavicle. The Colorado Springs Police caught up with us at the hospital and interviewed us separately. The officer told me that they thought they knew who had hit us, that he had stolen his ex-girlfriend’s car and had fled the scene. Our hit-and-run was just one of many charges pending against him.

After Laura was interviewed by the police and released by the hospital, she was able to rejoin me. I called Hertz to report the accident. They asked me to contact them once I knew where the car was towed, and also asked if we needed another rental, but we would have to come back to the Denver airport to get it. Since that was our final destination anyway and neither of us felt like driving, we declined and told them that we would find alternative transportation to the airport.

Although the hospital staff originally told us that their goal was to get us on our 8:00 p.m. flight home, we were released in time to try to make Kyle’s afternoon soccer game. Laura called an Uber to take us there. October 22 turned out to be a big day: first broken bone, first ambulance ride, first Uber. We met up with Kyle’s family at the soccer field, loaded our stuff in their van, and headed to the game, missing only about 10 minutes. By this time my hospital meds had kicked in big time and I don’t remember much other than an egregious incident involving the other team pulling Kyle out of the box by his jersey with a resulting score that the officials let stand. Bummer!

After the game, Kyle headed back to South Dakota with his team and his family kindly drove us to the Denver airport. We left almost all of our luggage with them, and made it through security and to our gate with about 10 minutes to spare. Sadly, I had to give up my exit row seat with extra leg room because I was not physically able to open the exit hatch should it be necessary. But the gate attendance kindly sat me next to Laura, who took prodigious care of me during the flight. Just so you know, turbulence and broken collarbones do not make for a happy combination.

By about 11:00 p.m. we were home in Jefferson City, Laura ready to head back to Truman for the rest of her final semester, and me to deal with my fractured collarbone.