The weekend passed in a haze of pain, and a bit of anger. I can't believe that one bus driver driving badly can inflict this much damage and pain on me. I move between denial that this has happened, and anger that it has happened. Who knew that accidents also follow the stages of grief?
I start the obsessive googling of proximal humerus fractures that will continue for quite a few months. The pain is just getting worse, the bruising is coming in, and the spasms are unrelenting. We decide that we will attempt the local hospital A&E on Monday.
Google has informed me that the fracture clinic may not be the answer to my pain, as the reviews aren't great and pain isn't something that they seem to care too much about (in this, google turned out to be entirely correct). I add "private gp services" to my search criteria.
I manage to have a shower. Well, to be entirely correct I manage to stand under the showerhead while my poor mother washes my hair for me. And even that hurt so badly and took so much energy that I need to recover for a long time afterwards.
I still don't have much appetite, and my mother has to cut my food into little bite size pieces for me, as if I was 4 again.
I also discover that I cannot wear skechers, which is normally my go-to shoe for comfort. What you don't realise when you're healthy is that the spongy soles on Skechers actual require your body to balance and adjust for the movement. This meant my shoulder spasmed with every step, so I had to go to hard sole shoes, which at least didn't add any painful bounce to my steps.
I still cannot attempt a bra, but luckily it is very warm so I can wear vest-style tops, and runner-style leggings, and since I'm not leaving the house anyway, it doesn't matter what I look like.
Google has informed me that the fracture clinic may not be the answer to my pain, as the reviews aren't great and pain isn't something that they seem to care too much about (in this, google turned out to be entirely correct). I add "private gp services" to my search criteria.
I manage to have a shower. Well, to be entirely correct I manage to stand under the showerhead while my poor mother washes my hair for me. And even that hurt so badly and took so much energy that I need to recover for a long time afterwards.
I still don't have much appetite, and my mother has to cut my food into little bite size pieces for me, as if I was 4 again.
I also discover that I cannot wear skechers, which is normally my go-to shoe for comfort. What you don't realise when you're healthy is that the spongy soles on Skechers actual require your body to balance and adjust for the movement. This meant my shoulder spasmed with every step, so I had to go to hard sole shoes, which at least didn't add any painful bounce to my steps.
I still cannot attempt a bra, but luckily it is very warm so I can wear vest-style tops, and runner-style leggings, and since I'm not leaving the house anyway, it doesn't matter what I look like.
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