The Art of Accepting a Setback

I am coming off of a two-day binge of House of Cards. Paranoia is setting in.  I no longer trust my iPhone.  You'll never get me near railroad tracks.  I pray that my personal fashion icon, Michelle Obama, is nothing like Claire Underwood, although I do admire Claire's understated chic.

Why would I sit in front of a screen on a glorious spring day? Why would I be typing this with one hand, and not very successfully? Let me tell you. I broke my arm. Again!

Post accident and post surgery.

It started last Thursday when smarty-pants Prairie Sherry decided to leave the safety of the plains and hiked up a bluff at Devil's Lake State Park. This is a photo of me enjoying a zen moment at the top of the rock-strewn bluff I had just climbed.

Actually, I was just trying
to get my heart rate back to
normal.

Then I started the climb down.  I don't think my mind was at a higher plain of consciousness as my foot slipped on that rock and I hit the ground.  Nine hours and two ERs later, I returned home.

Honey, I'm home.

Yup, they let me keep the hospital gown because there was no way I was letting them put that long sleeved t-shirt back on. I'm sure Michelle or Claire would wear it much better.

The arm is now set, plated in titanium, and ensconced in plaster. I will have to put aside any near-future plans of world domination a la Claire Underwood.  I would never be able to get one of her signature slender sheaths over this bandaged appendage let alone zip up the zipper. 

Frank, would you put that call to Putin on hold and unzip
this damn zipper?

Looks like a summer of sloppy t-shirts and elastic-waisted shorts ahead for me. 

Prairie Sherry

PS

I would be remiss if I did not thank my dear friend, Cindy, for getting me off that bluff, driving to two ER's, and listening to my incoherent drug-induced ramblings for 8 hours.  She has earned the title of Prairie Cindy.

Bless you, Prairie Cindy!