Saturday, February 13, 2016

Wham! A Proximal Fracture



One moment I was standing in the snow and the next I was on the ground and my shoulder felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. That's how my imagination translated what happened. I had stepped onto a patch of wet ice and my body hit the frozen ground shoulder first.

A proximal humerus fracture is where the top of the humerus bone is broken off the humeral head (also known as the greater tuberosity or 'ball'). If you have ever had one, you have my sympathies. In fact my sympathetic and empathetic functions have evolved to a higher level since my fall in early December. I was told to expect it to take six months for the bones to heal and a year for my shoulder to recover.

The 'village' has been a wonderful help these past few months. Friends and family have provided meals, come over to 'babysit' me while telling stories and making art, cleaned house, and given me rides. They also helped Mike build fence, haul hay and move cattle.

Friend Cheryl, one of the regular 'Sara sitters'






















Mike has been the solid, compassionate, caregiver, primary chauffeur, wardrobe assistant, bath attendant, and hair stylist. On top of the extra chores, my accident threw a monkey-wrench into his ranch management schedule, requiring many trips to doctors here and in Portland. I admire Mike's ability to find the energy and patience to deal with it all.

My 'left hand' man






















Thank goodness for the grandboys who arrived regularly to play, cuddle and explore. We enjoyed a quiet holiday season with the extended family and we finally got the cattle down to the winter range. A huge relief after having to feed hay and chop ice for far too long in the valley.

Snuggle treatment from Weston



















Harlan's first visit to the canyon








Jon and Prairie came for a long visit and baby Harlan had his first trip to the canyon. It was a treat for me to be on the river again. I've missed the canyons and critters so much during my confinement.













Even if I still can't do much, it feels good just to be in the canyon. I love walking to the cemetery to visit Tinie Stubblefield and Effie May Lydell; listening to the rush of water over stones, being greeted by geese, mergansers and king fishers; and standing in the dark, watching the whorl of stars above canyon rims.


Sara finally makes it back to the canyon, following cows down the road




From Sara at Magpie Ranch, home of Bunchgrass Beef