Typing Lefthanded

Well, I’ve done it now. On Tuesday my husband and I were painting a set for the Christmas play at Church and I Steven Tyler’d off the edge of the stage. Or, for you older people, I Ann-Margret’d off the edge of the stage. So stupid. I landed on my wrist, and an artist’s paintbrush literally flashed before my eyes when I looked at my mangled wrist. It was a sable with a black handle. I couldn’t even stand, I was faint. My husband Hap called 911 and they came and asked me if I wanted to have my husband drive me, and I said no, you take me. I found out an ambulance is a rough ride. That seems wrong. Also wrong is the hours of suffering in the emergency room before they give you relief. Why? They were not busy.

Six hours later I went into surgery. That anesthesia was quite welcome and the anesthesiologist is my new BFF.

Leading up to the fall, we had a series of things break: the pool pump, garage door, Hap’s glasses; at the church I commented that I wondered what would break next. (Hap says his new glasses are Sarah Palin style and now he can see Russia.)

My friends Denette and Mary brought food, which really helps so much. Hap is taking good care of me, he is the kindest person you’ll ever meet and I am very fortunate.

Hap did complete the work on the stage set, and we got to see the play Saturday night. It was wonderful. I can’t believe the amount of talent in River Run Christian Church, including a fabulous band. We both had a sense of accomplishment in spite of everything. In six weeks I should be able to paint again. God bless us every one!