On Making a Rock Wall

Arta wrapped in her Ryan Cranmer shawl

Bonnie and I were discussing all of the steps it takes to get hot muffins out of the oven before kids go to school. 

We thought back about when the muffins are to go in the oven, when the batter is to be mixed, when the eggs are to be taken out of the fridge so they’ll have the chill off of them before they go in the batter, all of the tips that a fine gourmet recipe had given her. 

While she was describing this to me, I was thinking about my own plans to pick up the medium and small sized rocks that are left on the land between Lot 3 and Lot 4. 

Arta still on her feet! (and happy for drugs)

I was thinking about raking them into piles, but before taking them away I had to have a place to put them, so I had in mind building a rock wall behind which I could throw all of these shovel-sized piles of rocks I had been gathering together. I was glad when the rain came and washed the silt off of the piles of rocks. I was saddened when the frost came, and froze those piles to the ground, for now I had the extra step of using my ,.pick-axe to break them from the ground.

To make my rock wall behind which I am going to store these fist-sized rocks, I could use my dolly to carry the rocks that are 50-70 pounds over to my designated rock wall area, but there were some rocks that were too heavy for me to move. I asked Dave Wood if he would come over and move about 8 rocks for me. The day before, I’d prepared the ground with my rake and pickaxe so there would be a perfect bed on which to drop the rocks, and Dave and I had finished moving 7 of the 8 rocks by about 3:20pm. The last rock was situated half-way down the 33% incline or decline depending on which direction you are going in relation to my compost.

Dave and I didn’t really make a plan together, about who would be standing where, or about what would happen if the dolly got away from us, but run it did, chasing me as I was running backward down the hill. The dolly won, and I went flying. A full body plant on top of the sceptic system. Luckily the weight of my body landed on my shoulder, which saved my two beautiful artificial hips, but there was a searing pain that took me a few deep breaths in, a nd then blowing thin steams of air out, to get under control. Dave and I made a plan together to get me standing in the best possible way, by bringing a chair from the pottery area, onto which I could climb – sort of. When I stood up, I knew I was good to go, except for my left arm which needed to be carried. By 3:40 pm, I was at my computer station, read to listen to Rebecca’s last Business Associations Law class of the year, but I was telling her I needed to lift my computer up higher, but I was having trouble doing it one-handed.

She asked why I was operating that way, and I replied that I had just taken a fall on it. I think she may have said, “You’re not listening in on my class. I am calling Moiya to get right over there and take you into Emergency.”

I may have arrived at the hospital at 430pm, but my turn to go in and see the doctor didn’t come until 8:30pm. While sitting there I was reading Wendy Wickwire’s The Bridge, a book I’ve been dying to look at. While reading, I was curious about how hard it is to read a book when it is on your lap and you only have one hand to control it. I would fold the soft cover way back and pin it there, when I was reading the right side of the book, but when I went to the left side of the book to read, I had to jam my book against the metal post of the hospital chair, pin the spine of the book to my leg, and use my right hand to keep the pages from closing in on each other. Not the ideal way to read a biography.

By the time the nurse called my name, I had to tell her I might faint if I don’t have a wheelchair to take me in. When I explained my level of pain, a question we all know is on a scale of 0 – 10, 10 being childbirth, I was a little over 8, at which point one nurse delivered hydromorphone and the other went to give me a dose of Toradol which came with a sharp pain to the arm, but then the quick soothing relief of modern day drugs.
“I think I’m going to either throw up or faint, I said to the technician who came to x-ray my arm. “I don’t think so,” she said. “So far you look like a tough old bird.”

By this time a nurse was asking me to take off my clothes above my waist to prepare for the x-ray. 

Cruise the Cat visiting Arta on her return home

I knew that wasn’t gonna happen, so I told the nurse to just cut my t-shirt up the back. 

She said, “Are you sure? We only need your bra off. We could take you to a curtained space to do that.”

I thought that moving into a curtained space was far more painful than exposing myself to the two old men who were across from me waiting to be catherized. 

By now the pain meds were kicking in and I could have danced through the hospital with no shame.

By midnight I was released to the care of Moiya who had been texting me through my event wondering when she would be able to pick me up. I was home at 1am and watched Netflix until 4 am, probably a bit of shock settling in there. I see an orthopedic surgeon in Vernon on Monday.

Catherine Jarvis said she is giving written orders for my good health.

1. Others in the family are to do all the rock picking.
2. Dave Wood and I are not to team up on any work projects.

Oh, and my rock wall is looking pretty good.

Arta