Image by Myriams-Fotos from Pixabay
I’ve never really thought of myself as accident prone, but I suppose everyone in their sixties has a few injuries to write about. In an effort to humor myself through the recuperation of my latest accident, I’ve recounted a few incidents here. While it’s a bit of a stretch, I’ll include a lesson each accident blessed me with. Enjoy these stories from my life.
Incidents #1 and #2 ~ childhood broken arms
Being the youngest of four children generally means you follow your older siblings around, wanting to be like them, to do what they do. More attentive to your siblings than yourself at times, you are happy to go along with whatever idea, scheme, or mischief they may be causing.
I was especially loyal to my sister, Kathy. Loyalty can be accompanied by naivete, and this naivete might be exploited by someone with an ornery streak ?. Yup! This was true with sister, Kathy. Sometimes, she took advantage of my devotion. The same streak of orneriness was also evident in brother, Mark. He didn’t always treat me with kid gloves, that’s for sure. (Note: sister, Lucy, was generally nice to me, but I sometimes wished she would refrain from constant cuddling).
You can probably guess what I’m leading up to, based on the subtitle of this piece. Yes, my two more rowdy siblings each played a role in breaking my arms — different arms at different times, luckily.
Here are the stories:
When I was just a toddler, rambunctious four-year-old Kathy decided it would be fun to chase me around the house…that is, the inside of our 1950’s era ranch style home. She chased me from the living room to the dining room, through the kitchen and back to the living room. Round and round we went. I’m not sure why my busy parents didn’t stop us. Perhaps Mom was getting ready to put an end to our shenanigans when oops, baby Janet tripped on the floor lever to the freezer and fell on her left arm. Too late, Mom, and off to the emergency room we went with my first broken arm.
A few years later while we were on a family vacation, Mark was climbing a 4 ft. tall structure used to scrape mud off the bottom of one’s shoes (not sure many remember these, but they were often found on playgrounds). Well, climbing challenges are always fun, so I decided I wanted to climb up and be with my big brother. Like a goat trying to defend his highest peak position, Mark would not allow me on his domain and promptly pushed me off the metal mud scraping structure. Down I went again, landing on my right arm. Yup, you guessed it. Second trip to the emergency room with a second broken arm, one with which I would start my first-grade school year, where honing fine motor skills are high priority.
The easy and practical lesson learned from these two early childhood experiences is this: Be wary of your older siblings when they want to roughhouse. Perhaps a cuddle with your nurturing oldest sister may be the better choice.
Correlations can also be made to many life situations, though, can’t they? Here are two: 1.) Admiration is fine but be sure you don’t allow any human to woo you into making poor decisions just because you adore them. 2.) Choose your battles. We don’t all have to be top goat, and the mountainside becomes so much more attractive when all goats happily take their place along the climb.
While I don’t even remember the incident as a toddler, I do recall the struggle cutting, gluing, and writing in first grade. I wonder if that challenge built a bit of perseverance in my character. I wonder if it even gave me a keen appreciation for writing. I like to think so.
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Lest you wonder what other childhood injuries I experienced, there were none (which is amazing considering how my siblings picked on me — trust me, stories without injuries abound.)
However, as an adult there were a few additional accidents. ☹
Incident #3 ~ cracked wrist
Fast forward to the time of dating my cycling fanatic husband, Elmar. It was Spring Break, and we took our first trip to Glenwood Springs, a regular vacation spot for us now. We brought our bikes, of course. Elmar also wanted to teach me a bit about kayaking (he was still an avid kayaker back then). In order to show me how boaters “put in” to the river, we had to take a steep ramp down to a landing along the Glenwood Canyon Recreation Trail where we were cycling. Flying down the ramp was rather fun, I must admit; but when it came to cycling back up a near 45-degree angle, I didn’t do so well. I knew nothing about granny gear back then, and I lacked the leg strength to pedal myself back up. I also knew nothing about how to brake and keep yourself from falling. Gravity is strong and I was unable to balance as it pulled me back down the ramp. I fell on my right wrist. Ouch! (Oh, and evidently Elmar knew nothing about a woman who knows nothing about cycling, or he never would have suggested we ride up and down the ramp).
Evidently, the fall cracked my wrist. I ignored the pain until I could finish the school year, and finally visited an orthopedic doctor to determine why the pain wasn’t subsiding. Boy, did I get in trouble with him. Because I’d waited so long, the bone began to deteriorate, and I would require bone grafting surgery with a screw in my wrist.
More easy lessons learned: Don’t put off taking care of yourself when in pain. Oh, and be true to your physical limitations. Oh, and don’t’ even think about trying to impress a man whose physical aptitudes are far superior to your own. Yes, many lessons here. But I also like to think I developed some strong endurance capabilities during those months of pain and subsequent months of adjusting to a cast on my dominant right hand.
Incident #4 ~ sliced tendon
Fast forward a few more years to Christmas Eve, 2015. My California sister (the once mischievous Kathy) and family had journeyed to Colorado for the holidays, and I hosted an early family Christmas party. I love our Hooper family Christmas gatherings but cleaning up following a party is always tiring. The night before, when the extended family was with us, a drinking glass broke. Without thinking, I just threw the broken glass in the kitchen trash can. And without thinking the next morning (Christmas Eve), I shoved my left arm into that same trash can to pack down the garbage. Slice! Right through my left thumb. Off to the emergency room I went (yes, on Christmas Eve) to discover I had severed a tendon and would need surgery.
By that time in my career, I had the role of observing and providing feedback to classroom teachers. I was called a peer evaluator. The job required hauling my laptop from classroom to classroom and typing furiously to document what teachers and students were doing and learning. Kinda hard to type when one hand is in an enormous bandage. During the balance of that school year, most evenings were spent finger pecking away on what I hadn’t finished during the school day.
Another easy lesson learned: Always, always put broken glass in a container that ensures sharp edges are hidden away safe and sound… and always, always THINK about what you are doing when cleaning up after a party! Once again, this accident also taught me the importance of getting one’s job done regardless of circumstances that hinder productivity.
Incident #5 ~ hit by a car while riding bicycle
Fast forward once more to present day. If you read the introduction to my August newsletter,* you have all the details for this particular, and most recent, mishap. At this writing, I’m trying not to feel sorry for myself because I’m now shorter than ever due to minor realignment of vertebrae. (Sigh, why couldn’t the realignment have made me taller?) Being short has always been somewhat of a limitation. I’ve learned humility, always needing a stool or assistance from a taller person to reach things. And now, I am learning to have greater resolve, as I hold my hurting back after standing too long. I’m learning the importance of discipline in doing physical therapy and swimming to help keep the back stretched out.
More importantly, at 61 years old, I realize future years will only hold more physical challenges. By God’s grace, I will keep hobbling along, for life moves forward. Giving up can’t be an option. Having only these few incidents in life, I don’t think I’m accident prone, but I do pray I am perseverance prone.
Finally, I think of those who have it much worse. And there are many who struggle with chronic pain, mysterious illness, accidents, or missteps that damaged bodies in awful ways. I do not compare my current challenge with theirs, that would not be fair. They are true heroes, enduring a great deal.
One particular person came to mind just this week as I worked on this piece: Joni Eareckson Tada. At 17 years of age, Joni had a diving accident which broke her neck. She has now lived for over a half century as a quadriplegic. Experiencing more pain and suffering than most of us will ever know, she’s learned the depths of God’s faithfulness in ways I cannot imagine. When I think about how various impacts disrupt and transform lives, I champion her testimony. A tragic accident from a choice she made to dive into shallow water left her with tremendous challenges. But God met her in the midst of every consequence, every surgery, every day of constant pain. Now, she is a well-known Christian speaker and author. Her testimony ministers to countless others who also suffer with pain and disability. Joni Eareckson Tada has made her own impact, to be sure, transforming lives through her witness and by God’s grace. I highly recommend listening to this short 13-minute video recounting her struggle. Here’s the link. JoniEarecksonTadaVideo
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