Broken Arm

[Martin Hash]

This was birthday month at our house and I noticed my wife, Gwynne, and I were getting old. There are people who don’t like to admit that but I’ve got a mirror. At least it’s easier to stay thin when you’re old: Gwynne hovers around 90 pounds. She’s got bird bones and has been prescribed phosphate for low density. She also doesn’t have the balance she used to. To Gwynne’s credit, she and my daughter are regular students in my son, Heath’s, martial arts women’s self-defense class. “You hit like a moth, Mom,” he tells her. Heath also has two other classes, one for Black-belts, and he sets up challenges for them. This month was the “3 Ds Hike:” climbing Mt. Defiant, Dog Mt. And Devil’s Peak all in the same day, about 20 miles. Everybody’s welcome to go and he asked Gwynne. He asked me too but I said, “I’m too old.” Even though I’m fit and probably could have made the whole thing, it seemed more like endurance-testing than fun. Gwynne was planning on stopping between mountains. Some other women were going, Heath’s wife, Jessica, was one, and they planned on just stopping if they got tired.

I had just finished my regular daily home routine when I got a text from Heath saying “Don’t drink. Mom got hurt pretty bad.” That was it; I figured he would have said more if Gwynne’s injury, whatever it was, was life-threatening. About 3 hours later I got a text from Jessica. “I’m taking Gwynne to the hospital. Meet us there in about 90 minutes.” That was a little more concerning but I still wasn't overly worried until the photo came.

Displaced Fracture.jpg

Holy Moly: that’s not the shape arms are supposed to have. Almost to the top of Mt. Defiant, Gwynne had lost her balance on a loose rock, fell and broke both bones in her wrist; complete displaced fractures. She had to hike 3-1/2 hours back down the mountain then drive 1-1/2 hours to the hospital. By the time they arrived, her whole hand was cold and there was no feeling in her fingers. The attending physician, a woman about the same size as Gwynne, called a large male assistant into the Emergency room. Apparently he was bone straightener guy. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “I haven’t seen one like that before.”

Gwynne was given a drug that wouldn’t put her out but it would make her forget what happened next but I wouldn’t forget. At the doctor’s direction, the big man pulled on Gwynne’s tiny hand, trying to straighten it, but it had been a long time and the muscles had contracted. “Brace your leg on the table,” the doctor told him. The guy did and yanked with all his might. “Now twist 15 degrees clockwise,” the doctor ordered. At this point, Gwynne’s face showed excruciating pain: I was cringing and I’m a doctor. The ER team put on a splint and expertly applied the cast material. It was all over in 10 minutes. “She’s going to have some pain,” the doctor explained to me. “Not so much from the break, that was clean,” but the traction from the realignment was substantial.” Everything turned out all right and people sent Get Well cards but the insurance wouldn’t cover the one pain pill they gave her.

Gwynne in Cast.jpg