Splintered Reflections

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

Or at least, the first day without pins, stitches or anything else embedded into my arm. This morning I went once more to the lovely Hospital Riviera, Montreux, to have my stitches removed. I appear to be quite well-known there now and I seem to be on first name terms with many of the doctors. I shall miss Dr Mipsy in particular, and his rather lame but comical excuse for lateness. Extended staff meeting = latte grande and crafty cigarette. Shame on you, Dr Mipsy. I love you anyway.

My medical care at the hospital has been nothing short of exceptional. OK, I had an infection in one of the pins, but I think that had more to do with my kamikaze son continuously knocking into me. He is coming up for 2 years old, and obviously could not care less about my dodgy limb when there is fun to be had. My daughter understands a little more after breaking her own arm last year and has often come up to sit on my knee with the sole intention of “stroking” my arm better. Sometimes, she has fetched “equipment” and encouraged my healing with the aid of a small red plastic stethoscope which she has lovingly held against my arm. After removing this, she declares my arm is better. “A little while longer, sweetheart, a little longer,” I tell her.

Each day has felt like an eternity. Maybe not at first; when I first had the accident, adrenalin carried me through the first few days.  And drugs.  But after a while I sank a little.

There was more to it than simply the arm.

Just before Christmas, I was having a tough time. I don’t need to go into details here, but we were having problems financially, and a few extended family problems arose too. All are sorted out now, at least for the time being, but at the time, I remember saying to my boyfriend…”I don’t think I can take any more”.

BANG!  And there it was.  A patch of ice.  Somebody, somewhere thought that I obviously could…

And that became precisely the point. I had been letting EVERYTHING get on top of me prior to Christmas. I wasn’t enjoying life that much because I was focusing solely on the problems and not on the moment.

Along came the appropriate life lesson that I needed to learn.

The whole episode, if I am honest, has shaken my world to the core. A broken arm is not that serious, I know. But when you are in charge of small children and have their welfare as your priority, it really isn’t easy. I am not ashamed to say that I have not been a particularly nice Mother to them during my recovery. I have been depressed and frustrated. I am doing my best to make it up to them now.

During my recovery, I have been thinking a lot about life, relationships, friendships and what “IT” all means. Deep, I know. But this whole saga has forced me to think a lot about these things. Maybe because the accident could have been much worse and it lead me to think about mortality? I don’t know. I know I only slipped on ice, but the whole thing has been painful and debilitating and has caused me to think of those who live with pain and disability every day for the rest of their lives.

I’ve learned several things. I have learned that sometimes it is good to look at the “bigger picture”. We miss such a lot from our peripheral vision. I’ve been surprised at the kindness shown to me here in Switzerland by people whom I have either not known long, or very well, but their warmth and kindness has astounded me (you know who you are, Meals On Wheels and Driving Miss Daisy). Unfortunately, on the flip side, I have also learned some not so pleasant things about people. I suppose I just have to put that kind of disappointment down to the beauty of the world we live in and that it “takes all sorts”.

In the spirit of trying to using this “life lesson” to change my ways for the better, I am trying hard to concentrate on people who mean a great deal to me. Don’t get me wrong, I am a good friend and not a passive one, at that.  Caring is not a passive exercise. It is easy to say “I care”, just as it is easy to say “I’m sorry”. Deeds not words (John Fletcher, Jacobean playwright)

But the broken arm kind of broke my spirit.  And I want my spirit back.

The last few days have seen me zipping into positive action; designing websites for people I have promised to help ages ago, setting up blogs for others who have been nudging me for guidance for a while now, contacting people I have not been able to catch up with in an embarrassingly long time and just generally showing those around me who have showered me with acts of kindness, the same thing; that I care, and I’m going to do something to show them that I do.

For friends that I have on an online community, I have designed and started a group blog.  I am not linking to it here, as it is anonymous and not meant to promote me or my writing.  It is just for fun and a way of showing my online mates that I care for them and their crazy web chat, jokes, enquiries as to my recovery and just general silliness at the end of a long, frustrating day.  You know who you are Dragon-Cake-Lady, Macaroni-Cheese-Lady and the lovely Chatooties.  Thanks for the fun!

And that’s kind of it.  Episode over.  No Eastenders-esque “Duff, duff, duff….” etc.  But an ending all the same.

And a new beginning…

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.