One week after injury, the day after surgery
Training
On Jan 5, 2024, I began training for a spring Half-Marathon when I would be 65 years old. I feel confident and motivated.
Pushing Hard & Succeeding
On May 11, 2024, I ran the Astoria Run on the River Half-Marathon. Damn, it felt good! I feel strong. Next year, I will be even more fit and strong. (I was the oldest runner in the race.)
Falling & a First-ever Ambulance Ride
On June 11, 2024, I fell off a 3-foot stool while changing the furnace filter. My back slammed against the wood floor, knocking the wind out of me. I got my first-ever ambulance ride that day and caused a stir by passing out in the Emergency Room. Nothing was broken, but I endured a lot of pain and a three-month recovery. I missed a summer of running. I feel discouraged and broken.
Baby, I’m Back!
On September 9, 2024, I ran for the first time in three months. I went less than 2 miles and was slow. Baby, I’m back! I feel like myself again!
Not so fast! First Ever Broken Bone
On December 7, 2024, I slipped and fell on a wet floor while visiting my 97-year-old Dad in St. Louis. I knew immediately that this was serious. “Oh shit!,” I thought as I saw the X-rays of my fractured elbow. As I spent a day in Urgent Care and the Emergency Room, I felt beloved by family and friends locally and afar. Their texts wrapped me in love. I cried at the videos from my grandchildren. Despite siblings nearby, I feel vulnerable with my Maggie 2,000 miles away in Oregon.
Change of Plans
Early on December 9, 2024, I flew home to see an orthopedic surgeon. I grieved the shortened visit. I yearn to be with my Imzadi Maggie at home.
Surgery Scheduled
And on December 11, 2024, I see the orthopedic doctor who confirms surgery is necessary for my arm to recover fully. I feel relief at the knowledge of what comes next. Tears, as they have since the seventh, are beneath the surface, periodically leaking out.
Raw Feelings and from the Day Before Surgery
Despite the relief I felt yesterday, today (December 12, 2024 I), my anxiety is increasing. I am feeling anxious. I want to tear up and cry. I’m scared, not for my life, not anything like that. I’m just afraid. I’m frustrated that I can’t do anything easily with my left hand. And now I’m gonna be in pain or oozy from the medication!
This is just too much! This year has just been too much! My body has just been flip-flopping like a fish. First, falling off the stool, hitting my back in June. Now, this month, as I was beginning to run more distance and my pace was improving again, I slipped on a wet floor and fractured my elbow. Fuck this shit! I am just so frustrated and so overwhelmed!
I feel so out of control of what is happening to me. One of the most frustrating parts of this is that I can’t even write. I’m doing this audibly with the accessibility features, and it’s imperfect, more so than I’m comfortable with.
I wanna scream out in fury. But any quick or dramatic movement just causes me pain! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! (Use the F word when you can’t flail around explosively.)
Well, surgery tomorrow. Hopefully, after the pain, I will begin to see some hope.
Reflecting on a Week of Coping Without My Dominant Hand
I’ve been without my right hand and arm for a week now, and it’s going to be several months yet. Everything is hard with my right hand in a sling. I feel frustrated with eating, opening containers, getting in and out of bed and the car, bathing, and other personal tasks. The loss of dignity, privacy, and self-reliance sometimes leads me to burst into tears, especially by the end of the day.
I hurt physically, but it is not as bad as I expected. I cry out at the pain sometimes because honoring the injury helps me through it. I am frustrated. I feel impatient. But I’m slowly but surely adapting.
Holding a book is a challenge. I can’t run or write. (All of these are critical to my mental health). I have to be patient about not running. Physical healing will come. I am learning to write using the accessibility features on my MacBook and iPhone. (Did you know phone keyboards have a one-handed mode?) Audio dictation is odd, but I think I can cope with it. Do I have a choice? I have to do it in a quiet room, and I can’t listen to music in the background or the lyrics become part of my post,
Being, Wandering 
I’m so sorry to hear about this, Tim. A someone who has never been nearly as physically active as you, I can’t imagine all the ways this must be messing with your expectations of yourself and the world you had built for yourself.
All I can identify with is the pain you are going through. As I think you know, I’ve had my share of physical suffering and prolonged debilitation that kept me from doing what I had been doing for years.
I wish for you that you will gain from the experience, as I did mine. Patience and acceptance are not just virtues, they have been essential to my mental recovery from my physical problems.