Now that the pain meds are out of my system... I’d like to share a little story to make my friends feel better about getting older. Let’s set the scene...
It was Saturday night, we had a sitter for the kids, and the best 80’s rock tribute band in town was playing at one of our favorite spots!! What could go wrong?!
A lot. A lot could go wrong, actually.
Wearing a cute and reasonably short dress, my most bitchin’ jean jacket (yes... I have more than one), and the most wreckless wedges I could find in my closet... I. Was. Pumped. I would have crimped my hair, but I broke my crimper last month before I hosted 80’s bunco at our crib. Sad news, I know. I hope I get a replacement for Christmas. 🤞I digress. We called the uber and headed to the venue!
”Excuse me? No seats? Standing room only?” Not a problem!! I planned to dance the night away anyhow. We headed to the 5’ x 5’ “pit” at the front of the stage, where EVERYONE could see our sweet moves. All of them. Two drinks and a quart sized lemon drop shot later, our moves were getting better... and bigger. My girlfriend and I bumped shoulders and “oopsies!!” I spilled a little of my drink on the floor. I hoped no one saw that. Little did I know that I was about to banana peel slip on that “little” amount of what is believed to have been a vodka Diet Coke and bust my big 80’s-born ass in front of ALL of the folks fortunate to get seats that evening. Brett Michaels down, friends!! Arm. Broken. Audience. Flashed. (I told you my dress was short.)
I, like many, have the wonderful reaction to extreme pain of passing out cold. Happened twice before they could get me to the restaurant side of the venue where we could assess the damage. While the rude ass lady who works there continued to chant “oh look at her passing out... she’s obviously wasted”, my husband and friends called in the county’s finest. CCFD. Thank you for your attentiveness and kindness after this unfortunate moonwalking incident. To the ass hat that was more worried about a lawsuit than the new shape my arm had taken in the 20 mins it took for our next uber to get there... I wish I knew who you were. Things were a little fuzzy during “Nothin’ but a Good Time”.
**Sidebar:: We took an uber to the hospital because I learned my lesson last time taking an ambulance when I should have found alternative transportation. Ambulances must be made of Ivory or something, because those bills, my friends, are highway robbery!!**
The driver that took us to the hospital was driving like Cruella DeVille, which made my slightly inebriated husband get the spinnies, but once we got checked in and clarified who we were there for, things started to improve. (SP Fox was throwing up and they thought he was the patient). The nurses were fantastic, doc was a little strange, but all in all an okay experience. X-rays delivered the worst news a tax preparer can get during extension season. Broken radius, wrist joint broken AND dislocated, and surgery required for plates and pins to put my dumbass back together again ASAP. I practically Tonya Harding’ed myself before the tax Olympics.
I swallowed the news and any extra morphine they would give me, and we took the nastiest, smelliest, most uncomfortable taxi ride in the history of taxi rides home at 5AM. Like french fries and bugs in the front seat nasty. To the Woodstock Cab Company... time to step up the standards, friends. Pretty sure the driver was more messed up than I was at that moment.
Surgery went well. Surgeon was a Dawgs fan, our age, and nothing like the ER doc (guy literally looked 13 years old and was such a strange bird). The dust is settled, the bruise on my ego is a faded green color now. Work is going alright, thanks to wonderful coworkers! I’ll be back in action before ya know it. Probably gonna wear flats next time, though. We aren’t spring chickens anymore, friends!!
Takeaway from this unfortunate event: Keep on dancing, just be more careful while doing it!! Stay safe out there, my fellow concert loving friends!
#gettingolder #theanxietymom #gettingboniva #eatcalcium #poison #nothingbutagoodtime ... and a broken arm.