October 29, 2009

• On Wrists: Broken and Limp

  We have an enormous sweetgum tree growing in the right angle between the driveway and the deck, and every year at this season, the tree drops leaves and ball-shaped seed pods.  Yesterday morning, as Beth was loading her car for a breakfast her Foundation was sponsoring, she stepped on one of those balls.  Her feet went out from under her, and she went down.  She broke her fall with her left hand, and she broke her left wrist in the process.  She knew her wrist was messed up, but she said she figured better her wrist than, say, her face.

  She worked all day yesterday, but this morning she noticed her wrist and hand were discolored.  She went to the doctor, and she has a broken wrist.  They put her in a splint and a sling, gave her a prescription for pain medicine (which she didn’t have filled), and sent her on her way within 30 minutes of her arrival.  She said that’s the kind of doctor visit she likes and expects.  She told them she was a busy woman and didn’t have time to waste.  They honored that.  She worked the rest of today.  On Monday she has an appointment with her orthopedic doctor, and the doc she saw today said he’ll probably put it in a cast.  “Her orthopedic doctor?”  Yes, doesn’t everyone have a regular orthopedist?  If you’re Beth you do.  This is the third time she’s broken a bone. 

  When she called me this morning to tell me about the diagnosis (I was sound asleep when she left the house both yesterday and today), she told me I’d have to see about food for both of us.  Tonight she told me she really could have cooked, but I insisted on making her dinner.  Her dinner was a chicken salad sandwich I had bought at a deli, baked potato chips, and a pair.  I’m nothing if not a gourmet cook.  I offered to put lettuce on the sandwich, but she didn’t want that.  I bought quite a lot of low-fat chicken salad, so she’ll probably have that meal again.  I’ll work on convincing her to have lettuce on her sandwich.

  So that’s the story of the broken wrist.  What about the limp wrist in my title?

  Well, tonight I watched a documentary on DVD from Netflix about same-sex marriage.  I realize referring to that as “limp wrist” is totally stereotypical, but I couldn’t figure out any other way to link Beth’s broken wrist to the movie.

  The movie is called Tying the Knot, and it was very interesting.  It sort of traces the history of same-sex marriage back to the earliest days, and it talks a lot about interracial marriage, which once was illegal in some places in this country.  I’ve been a proponent of same-sex marriage since I first heard about it years ago, and I genuinely believe it’s a matter of social justice and a democratic imperative.

  So, isn’t it ironic that I could find a way to link a broken wrist with same-sex marriage?

  ED

  • 9:49 pm
  • 2 Comments