Today I can call myself a "man of steel" knowing that I probably have more metal in me than Superman does. Or should I be singing a rendition of the popular pop song "Titanium" instead? Either way, it's been about five weeks since I had a bit of a slip up, a fall and reconstruction of my arm. I had somehow managed to take a routine slip-and-fall and turn it into something more drastic, something more serious, something that required Dad to fly over at short notice, and something that required the docs to insert a metal plate into my body (I don't know the type of metal, hence the references to steel and titanium earlier). My fall occurred in such a manner that it caused the bone in my upper left arm to split into two, literally. The only way it could be mended was by way of surgery and the insertion of a metal plate to support the bone.
Five weeks on the bed, with not much to do barring some reading and a lot of TV has also given me time to think and reflect on the accident and everything else that has happened around it. As I recuperate and strengthen my arm (using blogging and Facebook as forms of physiotherapy), I cannot help but think about how such an incident could have been avoided; What could I have done differently? What are the downsides? (They say an idle mind is a devil's workshop, and now I know why.) And what positives came out of it? (Most people won't believe it, but I can see the upside from a lot of situations, even though I may often not strike the most positive chords.)
In the hospital, when they first came up with the diagnosis, the doctor came to me and said I had broken my left humerus (pronounced humorous). Lying there, somehow, I couldn't get myself to see the funny side of it; in so much pain, I wondered how they could call it that. But then again, we do have a funny bone too, which I am sure is not a laughing matter either when hurt! It sounded like a bit of a sick joke, but then I guess in medical circles they do need something to lighten it up for them from time to time. I got this vivid picture of these doctors and medics standing around a copy of my X-ray sharing a joke and laughing at the sight of a broken humerus... Kind of sick, isn't it?
Speaking of laughs, the metal plate brought out the best in my friends; suddenly even the non-funny ones had developed a sense of humor. (Funny how that sometimes happens, no?) One commented about me bringing down the house at airports, beeping through the security corridors of airports around the world. It was bad enough that as a brown man I was often singled out for "random checks" at a number of Western airports; I wonder what kind of a ruckus will be created when a brown man sets off the metal detectors despite having absolutely empty pockets! Another mentioned how I would never get lost again, of how someone could easily keep tabs on me. All someone had to do was pull out a strong enough magnet and I would be pulled back from wherever I was. Creative and most definitely humerus, I would have to say.
The surgery and downtime also made me think about and appreciate everything that I have. I have to be thankful for a lot in life, and sadly sometimes it is the most adverse situations that make you realize that -- but better late than never, I guess. My parents have been extremely supportive, loving and caring: (Dad was there all along to ensure the surgery was smooth and now too ensuring that my recovery is on target); my relatives, closest friends and loved ones (some more than others) have been around, supporting and encouraging me at all times; and most importantly, the damage to the arm was limited and I will soon have two fully functional arms again (not to mention one reinforced with steel).
Ah! But what about that beautiful coat of hair on the left arm that was all but wiped away with one swish of the razor to make way for the incision and the metal plate? It does feel odd to have one hairy arm... I'm just saying!
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