I've Got Your Back: - Part II of Taking a Break with Arta

Catherine Jarvis requested the longer story of the ride home to Victoria, so here it is and it comes in two parts.  This is the secoond part:

The Longer Story of the Break / or
The Sunday Road Trip / or
Taking a Break with Arta

December 30, 2020

Part II

Standing in the rain in front of the two dysfunctional EV Station Towers, I had my phone and could see the help number but couldn’t manage to type that number in with one hand. I got back in the car and phoned Steve. While I had planned to withhold this piece of storytelling until my arrival back home, I needed some help finding where the closest EV Station was. There is of course the longer version to tell including his counselling me to just take a few deep breaths and relax at which point I decided it would be unhelpful to continue with the narrative in which I was encountering anxiety related to an inability to figure the problem out, so I determined it was better to make clear to him that the challenge was how to problem solve with only one hand available to me. With this additional piece of information at his disposal, he went into action and phoned back with the address of the next closest station. After circling around the block a few times, we located free charging station at Howard and 4th street and plugged ourselves in. While waiting, I knew it was time for Arta’s pain killer meds and thought that I might take advantage of those as well. What followed was a five-minute Laurel and Hardy Schtick with two desperate one-armed women trying to coordinate their efforts to open one child proof pill bottle of Super Strength Tylenol. Not as easy as one might imagine. 

Or, I encourage this as a party activity.

By now we had to find another bathroom and this time the DQ was fine. We didn’t buy anything. We entered with our masks. I decided I have spent enough money there over the years that this one will have to be called our free visit. Moiya had given us a bag of turkey sandwiches for the road, but now it was too hard to look for them in the packed car and it was getting dark.

We hit the road again. It rained all the way from Hope to Vancouver, but I was just so glad it wasn’t snow. I don’t want to sound like I am doing a car ad, but the Kia was wonderful. It has lane assist, which made one-armed driving so much easier, as well as adaptive cruise control, which means that the car slows down in response to the cars ahead of you. By this time my left arm hurt too much to be able to use the turn indicator, so I just stayed in the slow lane and let my one arm do the job.

We arrived at the ferry terminal 20 minutes ahead of the next sailing and with no line-ups. Yay! When I bought the ticket the ferry person told me that the boat was very low occupancy, so that was encouraging. We could have stayed in the car, but by this time, I was too cold, so we masked up and headed to the main deck where there was plenty of room to sit in a socially distant way from others. I plugged into a book on tape to distract myself and pulled out my last bag of mini-jelly beans. Arta did a couple of laps to keep her body limber and spent some time in the gift shop where there were no other patrons.

By 9:15 pm we were back home again. The two boys unloaded the car and I asked Steve to just to drop me off at Emergency Department at the hospital. I took 3 little blue fleecy blankets with me because I know that Arta spent four hours in the Salmon Arm Emergency when she went in with her broken shoulder. Arta had reported her pain at 5. She always under reports her pain level. I reported mine at 7, which I knew was accurate.

I told Steve I would cab it home when I was finished.

It ended up being a much quicker visit than anticipated. The hard part were the screening questions. I walked in with my mask on to encounter the first sanitizing station. By this time, my arm was really killing me. I had only had one little cry and this was after Alex came to hug me at the front door before I could signal to him that my arm was hurt. That bear hug of love did kind of push me over the edge. But I did hold the tears off until I was out of the house. At the hospital they asked me to first sanitize my hands. By this time, I was holding the sore arm up over my head in a protective mode and couldn’t figure out how to get the pump mobilized to apply the sanitizer in a hone handed way.

Oh, back to the DQ. As a note, when we had gone to the bathroom here we had learned that 2 people can wash their hands if one person holds the pump and then the 2 people use the soap to wash each other’s hands. But at the hospital, I was uncertain how to do this. The woman just asked me to do as best as I could so I used the elbow of one hand to operate the pump and then drizzled sanitizer on the top of the fingers of the other hand. Then came the screening questions:

1. Had I been off the island? I told her no, I had not. I had just been to the Interior to fetch my mother and bring her back to Victoria. The screening nurse then called across the room, yes, she had been off the island and then moved me directly to speak to the other screening nurse.

2. When I told them I had fallen hitting my head and my hand, they did the blood eye-ball pressure tests and immediately made me a mini-splint for my arm: a piece of plastic she unrolled, laid my arm on and then rewrapped it.

Then they had an x-ray requisition form available within minutes. They moved me immediately off to the x-ray room where I was the only person, was called into the lab within 5 minutes, and was returned to the ambulatory area. I was happy to have my blankets which made the chairs significantly more comfortable. Within 5 minutes they had called me again and placed me in another room, which said Casting; I was pretty sure the x-ray had sown a break. Five minutes after that Dr. Kelly showed up. She told me I had a radial styloid fracture. At first, I thought she said a stylish fracture and I was happy about that. She told me that unfortunately, I would need a cast, but that I would happily be able to choose the colour. How is that for glass-half-full thinking?

Courtney, she told me, would be in to help me momentarily. When Courtney arrived another 5 minutes later, I recognized her as one of the nurses I had seen in the intake area, because of the 2 marvellous tattoo sleeves on both of her arms. She asked me what colour I wanted. I asked if black was available and she said yes, it was. She said it was a good colour for hiding dirt, unless you are an alcoholic, suggesting it is harder to wash the bile off the black, for it turns red.

As she began the process of casting she asked me what I did for work. I told her I worked at the Law School and then she asked me if I had anything to do with the Indigenous Law Programme. I told her that I was just beginning work on a Trans-Systemic Business Associations Class for next year and she asked me if I knew Shayla Praud. I told her I did, since Shayla had just worked with my colleague Dr. John Borrows, O.C., on a report on Indigenous economies.

She went on to tell me Shayla was one of her cousins and how proud everyone in the family was that she was in the programme. She then went on to speak passionately about why the programme just wasn’t a benefit to the students in it, but was important for all Canadians and it was going to change the world. And she went on that it was time all Canadians understood the kind of racism that is currently present in our systems. That was unexpected, but also l loved to think about the JID programme being a source of conversation within the BC Health Care System.

By this time Steve had already arrived to pick me up. This was the shortest emergency department event I have ever had.

Now I have a lovely cast. 

I forgot to ask for pain meds, but telehealth came through the following morning. Thank you, Steve. The colour of the bump on my nose has been spreading out and I am developing a bit of a black eye. The bump on the head is settling down and it is still unclear to me how my face plant also gave me back scratches. It seems every muscle in my body really hurts.

Arta and I have our matching blue slings, our broken left arms and the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune have treated us rather well. No head injuries. No broken legs.

Life is good, especially while the T-3’s last. I would never have believed that I have the capacity to drive 7 hours with a broken wrist. I don’t precisely mean to say that that was on my bucket list. At least I can say, it is something I have now done.

Rebecca