This is from an email I sent my brothers on Friday, Oct. :
“I just got out of the hospital. On Sunday, we went to Prairie Creek to take down the mast and bring the boat home. We’ve done the procedure dozens of times. There’s a precarious moment when I’m standing on the bow, with one foot on the trailer winch. This time, a gust of wind caught me at just that moment, and I fell off backward, about 5 feet down, onto an area of fist-sized crushed stones. I’m astonished to tell you that I lay there saying, “Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch.” I landed, first, on my right scapula and shoulder. A nearby witness said I hit my leg on a concrete curbstone, but that didn’t hurt. Later, I found a big purple bruise there the size of two handprints. The worst part was my rib cage. All my shoulder muscles were badly bruised, and the 5th right rib broke on the front side. That’s probably what caused my lung to partly collapse.
I went right back to work on the boat, despite the pain. I knew my mobility would get worse with time. At first, I couldn’t lift my right arm over my head, and soon I couldn’t use it at all. We got help from another sailor, and I was reduced to walking around moaning. Mrs. Nott drove the boat home, then she took me to the ER. I grabbed a couple of Vicodins from home before going to the hospital. Dr. (surgeon’s name removed out of respect for his privacy) happened to be the weekend duty surgeon; he had been on duty when Mrs. Nott had her colon surgery. I was expected to be released on Wednesday, but I had a setback with my lung. They finally cut me loose this afternoon.(Friday) I was razzing the nurses this morning, “Go ahead and laugh. You fooled me Wednesday. Now I know you’re never going to let me go home. I’m gonna call H.H. Gregg, and I’ll get a big screen TV for my room. You’re not foolin’ me again.”
My rib won’t heal for another 8 weeks, and lying down is very painful. I didn’t get much sleep in the hospital, (last night, I woke up and didn’t even know where I was.) and sleeping is going to be dicey for a long time.”
On the day of my fall, I mused on my G-rated words while lying on the rocks. “Swearing was about the only thing I did like a proper sailor,” I thought, “and now that’s gone, too. Damn.”
Saturday, I felt nearly OK. Today, (Sunday) I felt like a dozen children had beaten me with fungo bats. I’m using the Vicodin sparingly, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. That rib is my first broken bone in 55 years. :eek: