By Tammy Malgesini
Staff Writer
Published on June 8, 2016 7:19AM
I didn’t set out in life to represent a quote attributed to gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson:
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!”
I dispute people’s suggestions that I’m accident-prone. However, it seems I’ve had my share of weird medical mishaps.
My husband, John, is amused with how I cracked a bone in my wrist. After showering, I hadn’t put in my contacts yet. Freaking out thinking a spider was crawling up my arm, I swung around and hit my wrist on the door jam. The suspect spider was actually loose strings from my towel.
The second time I broke my nose — the first time I took a line drive in the face while playing softball — was just a freak accident.
During a trip with friends, we stopped at a Goodwill in Portland. While trying to remove something from an upper shelf, a large wooden item came crashing down, striking the bridge of my nose.
My friends were elsewhere in the store when they heard someone asking for help for a woman that was bleeding. Curious about the commotion, they showed up to find me looking bewildered.
After getting home, John took me to the emergency room. I ended up getting stitches. However, that wasn’t the end of the saga. It got infected, requiring two courses of antibiotics, an antibiotic ointment and a steroid cream.
Speaking of infection, one time my thumb swelled up so big I thought it was going to pop. Flying home from Florida, it was red, throbbing and inflamed.
Literally sticking out like a sore thumb, I went to the doctor. The diagnosis: cellulitis. Evidently bacteria entered through my cracked cuticles.
Swollen all the way to my wrist joint, I went back to the doctor. I could hear the nurse talking to him through door. When he said the antibiotics needed time to take effect, the nurse replied, “No, you have to see this, it’s A LOT bigger.” Luckily it responded to additional antibiotics and I didn’t have to get IV medications.
When I broke my femur sliding into home playing softball, I had no idea the severity of the injury. While getting x-rays, I asked the technician if I would be staying overnight. He responded, “Honey, you’re going to be here awhile.”
Then there was the time I broke my humerus — only I wasn’t laughing.
Friends have suggested I need my own personal bubble. Or at the very least, I should have a warning label.
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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.
