Not Quite Broken
I had an anterior dislocation of my right shoulder. According to the paramedic at the water park, I also had a posterior dislocation of my left shoulder, but the orthopedist didn't believe this. Not even ten minutes after the disaster, I power-walked to the First Aid office, holding my right arm with my left. The hardest part about that short trek was trying not to yell at the lady who was supposedly helping me, but really was just panicking in my ear. I was calm the whole time; this is how I react to emergencies or stressful situations which makes me really proud.
When the paramedic was putting my arms back in their sockets, I braced for the pain and it thankfully didn't come, probably because the injury was still hot and the adrenaline kept coursing through my veins. I didn't shed a tear of pain. It was only after walking out, a rudimentary sling on my right arm, my left arm still holding my right and watching the rest of the excursion leave to keep up the fun, that it occurred to me that my vacation was ruined.
Mom took a look at me, pointed out that these things happen, and left me to fend for myself while she enjoyed herself with the rest. I resigned myself to waiting out the day in a sad but quiet mood. That mood was short-lived after my mom returned. Not uncharacteristically, she reprimanded me for something stupid, which pushed me over the edge and let loose a torrent of tears.
Yes. These things do happen, to anyone, whenever, wherever. This is how mine happened: I was determined to try all the water slides like everybody else, so I climbed up about 80 steps to reach a capsule slide. I watched as three people did it, armed up the courage, and got in. (My heart races as I write this.) Nobody gave me instructions but I copied the posture of the others with my arms crossed on my chest. "One...two...three" and the floor gave away from under my feet.
By the way, keep in mind that I'm afraid of heights.
Freefalling is horrible and that feeling was what made me raise my hands, as if that would get rid of it. So I fell and then slid while in the wrong posture. I realized my mistake and tried to lower my arms, straining against the force of the water opposite my body's inertia. Finally, I managed to hug my arms to my chest, but it was too late: I had felt when my arms, especially my right, had dislocated. All this happened in a matter of seconds; 18 to be exact. It was all recorded on video.
The rest of the trip got worse and my injury was the least of my problems. Maybe I'll write about that or not but just to give more context, I took a trip to Guatemala with my mom and a group of strangers on a tour package. The accident happened on the third day. But the problems started as soon as we left our hometown and they snowballed as the days passed.
It's almost been three weeks since. I was given a month of medical leave to recover, almost against my will. I'd rather be working uncomfortably than staying at home being non-productive. It's not like I can rest properly anyway, knowing my family. I've been driving with one arm, dealing with a toddler, and running errands.
My problem is that I hate feeling vulnerable and impotent. I've worked hard to not depend on anybody, but in my situation, I've come to realize that this feat has hindered my ability to accept help, or even receive it because my family and scarce friends haven't offered much of it. As if they know that it would irritate me, and it does. People's comments about my injury also annoy me because they crack jokes or keep asking questions as if humor or reliving the moment will make it better.
FML