I’m a delicate badass. I don’t like pain, but when you’ve broken a few dozen bones (arms, hands, fingers, legs, toes, feet, multiple vertebrae, tailbone, collarbone, breast bone, skull, and some others I know I’m leaving out) multiple times you become aware of two solid truths. You, or at least your body is completely breakable – brittle (I have Osteo Genesis Imperfecta, or OI, brittle bone disease) and it also builds up your tolerance to pain and gore and all that other good stuff, making you a badass.
It’s been awhile since I’ve had a true fracture, let alone a bad one. But it serves me right to have one now. I’m currently working on an essay about the pain scale, chronic pain and the perspective/relationship of pain and the person feeling it and of course my history of fractures pops up. Even specific references to my left arm, wrist and hand. So it seems fitting I would break two bones in my left hand while on a tight deadline to finish said essay. Because this is the universe I live in.
Let’s start with the obvious. This SUCKS. Like so hard… I act like it’s no big and in the grand scheme of things – it’s not, but it hurts. Like I have a crazy pain tolerance so I’m like “Whatever,” and I am not taking the hardcore pain pills the orthopedic surgeon prescribed (I have them just in case though, in which case I’ll cut a pill in half) and I can handle it – function, but seriously it HURTS. Like the pain is always there but every now and then my entire hand will start to throb and then the pain washes over me in waves, making me seriously nauseated. Then there is the whole functioning thing.
