Man Down
Fall of a Heavyweight
1647L, Friday, 22 February 2008: I placed a bright blue heavy-duty exercise ball marked " Definity" between my shoulder-blades, grabbed a pair of 80 pound dumbbells, and started performing a set of horizontal flies while I waited for the squat rack to open. With my feet on the floor and my back parallel to the ground I extended the weights to each side and brought them up to meet over my face.
(Not Me)
I've been doing this exercise for years now. Peter had expressed concern when we first started training that the balls might burst. Joe, and later Mike, assured us the balls could not burst. They explained these heavy-duty balls had anti-burst features and a burst-rate of over 800 pounds. I weigh 240 pounds, the pair of 80 pound dumbbells weigh 160 pounds, thus I loaded 400 pounds onto the ball, roughly half its stated capacity.
I was pumping out eight repetitions when the ball exploded with a deafening bass "A" boom. No one was to my left. Instinctively I hurled the left dumbbell away. Someone was to my right: I checked myself from throwing weight to my right, and held on as I crashed down.
People were frightened. I may have said a bad word. Mike came rushing over. "Are you alright?"
"No", I said sadly. I could feel my arm was broken as I stood up. "I broke my arm."
"Are you sure?" Mike asked.
"Yes" I stated matter-of-factly, adding "I'm going into shock now." I knew I was a whiter shade of pale.
"You're really pale" someone said.
I said "I know" as I headed towards the door.
"Where are you going?" asked another bystander.
"The hospital."
"Do you want an ambulance?"
"No." It was snowing outside. I suspected the ambulance would be busy with drivers skidding off roads and old people slipping on ice. "It'll be quicker just to drive."
"I'll drive you" Mike volunteered. "Let me get my keys." He ran off while I waited by the indoor track, leaning heavily against the rail. I was insubordinate when a woman I didn't recognize ordered me to sit. She'd meant well.
I grabbed my coat and wallet from my locker. As we drove away we saw an ambulance arriving. Someone had called after all. We arrived at the Emergency Room at 1702L (5:02PM). Mike was concerned, and wanted to stay. I told him this could take hours, but that didn't faze him. So I told him "This really hurts, and I don't want to cry in front of you." He smiled at that, and returned to work at the gym.
I wandered around for a few six hours in shock and pain, holding my right arm up awkwardly. People came and went, but I remained, my sweaty gym clothes became stale. At one point I found a telephone and called the friends whom I was supposed to have already met that night, leaving a message on their machine. I'd been ignored for three hours by then.
Six hours after I had broken my arm someone finally took an X-ray. To think I had worried the ambulance would be too slow?
My right ulna was sheared diagonally, my right radius broken top and bottom - three big breaks. Once we could see how badly my arm was broken the pace picked up. The triage nurse was a lovely blond named Laurel whom took my vitals: my blood pressure was fine, but my heart rate was clearly elevated. Later I flirted with an attractive brunnette nurse named Shelly whom took blood and walked me to the operating room. The doctors wanted to operate right away. Shelly commented that my pain tolerance was exceptional. "I hurt", I assured her. "I'm just tougher than I look." I earned a giggle off that one.
I was given a local anaesthetic that eventually worked after two tries. The doctors were challenged by the thick muscle and dense bones I'd built. The operation was painless - in fact I drifted off to sleep, waking only as the doctors finished. Everyone seemed relieved I was able to lift myself from operating table to gurney. I was wheeled into a dark room, barely conscience.
My roommate was 78, a demented whiner named Mel. He hardly shut-up for two days. He was certain this was November 1997. I overheard he didn't like me because I wouldn't speak to him when they wheeled me in, and I snored too loud. The nursed tried explaining he was in a hospital, another fact he just didn't seem to get. He wanted to call his mother. He wanted to call his girlfriend. He wanted to call the cops when the he realized the nurses had taken his clothes. He kept trying to leave. He had an alarm fastened to his ankle to warn us whenever he was trying to sneak out, which was constant. I awoke at least once to find him at the foot of my bed, staring down at me. I think my reaction frightened the old fool. He leaped back to bed and even shut-up for a while. Even wounded, I could still swing at him.
I awoke to hear Mel complaining about me again, asking the nurse "Why doesn't he answer his phone?"
I have a phone? Thanks, Mel! I was soon making and taking calls. Then the visitors came.
My boxing coach, Jack, was the first one through my door. I was delighted to see him. My last visit that day was Jess. She called dibs on signing my cast first. I was sad to see her go. I had nine visitors in all, plus a few calls. Mel stayed hidden behind curtain, which was nice. It turned out I knew some of the nurses from the gym. They stopped by to check on me.
I took to wandering quiet hospital corridors late into the night shift, chatting with anyone friendly I encountered. I was released back into the wild Sunday afternoon, and returned to the gym to collect my gear. I took an image showing two of my three breaks and taped it to the gym wall.
It's hard to type with just one hand.
Update: Recover #1.
1647L, Friday, 22 February 2008: I placed a bright blue heavy-duty exercise ball marked " Definity" between my shoulder-blades, grabbed a pair of 80 pound dumbbells, and started performing a set of horizontal flies while I waited for the squat rack to open. With my feet on the floor and my back parallel to the ground I extended the weights to each side and brought them up to meet over my face.
(Not Me)
I've been doing this exercise for years now. Peter had expressed concern when we first started training that the balls might burst. Joe, and later Mike, assured us the balls could not burst. They explained these heavy-duty balls had anti-burst features and a burst-rate of over 800 pounds. I weigh 240 pounds, the pair of 80 pound dumbbells weigh 160 pounds, thus I loaded 400 pounds onto the ball, roughly half its stated capacity.
I was pumping out eight repetitions when the ball exploded with a deafening bass "A" boom. No one was to my left. Instinctively I hurled the left dumbbell away. Someone was to my right: I checked myself from throwing weight to my right, and held on as I crashed down.
People were frightened. I may have said a bad word. Mike came rushing over. "Are you alright?"
"No", I said sadly. I could feel my arm was broken as I stood up. "I broke my arm."
"Are you sure?" Mike asked.
"Yes" I stated matter-of-factly, adding "I'm going into shock now." I knew I was a whiter shade of pale.
"You're really pale" someone said.
I said "I know" as I headed towards the door.
"Where are you going?" asked another bystander.
"The hospital."
"Do you want an ambulance?"
"No." It was snowing outside. I suspected the ambulance would be busy with drivers skidding off roads and old people slipping on ice. "It'll be quicker just to drive."
"I'll drive you" Mike volunteered. "Let me get my keys." He ran off while I waited by the indoor track, leaning heavily against the rail. I was insubordinate when a woman I didn't recognize ordered me to sit. She'd meant well.
I grabbed my coat and wallet from my locker. As we drove away we saw an ambulance arriving. Someone had called after all. We arrived at the Emergency Room at 1702L (5:02PM). Mike was concerned, and wanted to stay. I told him this could take hours, but that didn't faze him. So I told him "This really hurts, and I don't want to cry in front of you." He smiled at that, and returned to work at the gym.
I wandered around for a few six hours in shock and pain, holding my right arm up awkwardly. People came and went, but I remained, my sweaty gym clothes became stale. At one point I found a telephone and called the friends whom I was supposed to have already met that night, leaving a message on their machine. I'd been ignored for three hours by then.
Six hours after I had broken my arm someone finally took an X-ray. To think I had worried the ambulance would be too slow?
My right ulna was sheared diagonally, my right radius broken top and bottom - three big breaks. Once we could see how badly my arm was broken the pace picked up. The triage nurse was a lovely blond named Laurel whom took my vitals: my blood pressure was fine, but my heart rate was clearly elevated. Later I flirted with an attractive brunnette nurse named Shelly whom took blood and walked me to the operating room. The doctors wanted to operate right away. Shelly commented that my pain tolerance was exceptional. "I hurt", I assured her. "I'm just tougher than I look." I earned a giggle off that one.
I was given a local anaesthetic that eventually worked after two tries. The doctors were challenged by the thick muscle and dense bones I'd built. The operation was painless - in fact I drifted off to sleep, waking only as the doctors finished. Everyone seemed relieved I was able to lift myself from operating table to gurney. I was wheeled into a dark room, barely conscience.
My roommate was 78, a demented whiner named Mel. He hardly shut-up for two days. He was certain this was November 1997. I overheard he didn't like me because I wouldn't speak to him when they wheeled me in, and I snored too loud. The nursed tried explaining he was in a hospital, another fact he just didn't seem to get. He wanted to call his mother. He wanted to call his girlfriend. He wanted to call the cops when the he realized the nurses had taken his clothes. He kept trying to leave. He had an alarm fastened to his ankle to warn us whenever he was trying to sneak out, which was constant. I awoke at least once to find him at the foot of my bed, staring down at me. I think my reaction frightened the old fool. He leaped back to bed and even shut-up for a while. Even wounded, I could still swing at him.
I awoke to hear Mel complaining about me again, asking the nurse "Why doesn't he answer his phone?"
I have a phone? Thanks, Mel! I was soon making and taking calls. Then the visitors came.
My boxing coach, Jack, was the first one through my door. I was delighted to see him. My last visit that day was Jess. She called dibs on signing my cast first. I was sad to see her go. I had nine visitors in all, plus a few calls. Mel stayed hidden behind curtain, which was nice. It turned out I knew some of the nurses from the gym. They stopped by to check on me.
I took to wandering quiet hospital corridors late into the night shift, chatting with anyone friendly I encountered. I was released back into the wild Sunday afternoon, and returned to the gym to collect my gear. I took an image showing two of my three breaks and taped it to the gym wall.
It's hard to type with just one hand.
Update: Recover #1.