Gimme a break: How a fractured limb helped me bask in kindness of others
A bad break for one person is an exercise in humanity for another, writes Rebecca Levingston
I broke my arm.
That’s not a sentence I was expecting to write in 2023.
But here I am. In a sling. Broken in two places.
Last Thursday night, I was playing soccer with my youngest son. He’s eight. I’m competitive. It ended with icepacks and an x-ray.
We have carpet in our garage (which sounds fancier than reality). It’s a marine carpet and it got particularly slippery on one spot thanks to some tyre shine. I remember my feet turning into cartoon style swirls before I fell backwards landing flat on my back.
I knew straight away I’d broken my left arm. A surge of pain radiating from my forearm and elbow. I stayed reasonably calm as I lay on the ground thinking about all things I needed to do. And hoping whatever damage I’d done wouldn’t interrupt life too much.
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My son retrieved two icepacks from the freezer and lay down next to me. Deep breaths. More pain. I wasn’t really sure what to do. After a few minutes, he politely inquired if we could play soccer yet. I asked for more injury time.
Eventually I made it to the couch and texted my favourite physio David Peirce. He approved of the ice and sent me an x-ray referral. Thanks Dave. I went to bed in shock with an arm that wouldn’t bend.
Next day the radiologist confirmed a crack in my radius. A non-displaced fracture. When we were kids we called it a greenstick break. Bend a green branch and you’ll see what I mean.
So no cast needed but I did need to get on a plane to Townsville to host a charity fundraiser.
And that’s where the kindness of strangers (almost) made breaking my arm worthwhile.
At the airport, several passengers offered to help with my bag at the metal detector and with overhead luggage. It’s a lovely thing to have a stranger offer assistance out of the blue. We should do it more, regardless of slings.
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The lady next to me on the plane wanted to do up my seatbelt for me. A bloke in a North Queensland Cowboys jersey carried my bag up and down the steps of the plane. He didn’t say much and disappeared like a gentle superhero for the broken limbed.
The Cowboy courtesy continued at the charity gala where my co-host Gavin Cooper (former professional rugby league player) cut up my steak in-between hosting duties. I got the impression he’d been around a few team mates who still needed protein even with fractured arms. Thanks Coops.
We helped raise over $100,000 for The Cure Starts Now which is a charity that supports research for children with terminal brain cancer. You want perspective on life and health, you’ll get it in a room with parents who’ve buried their children. Again, I felt in awe of the generosity of strangers who put their hands in their pockets for precious kids.
I managed to squeeze in a visit to another occupational therapist called Vicky at Arm to Palm who kindly checked out my wing and screwed up her face. She didn’t charge me but suggested a CT scan. She sent me on my way with a compression bandage and good wishes for the flight back to Brisbane. Thanks Vicky!
Turns out I had also cracked my coronoid tip. Sounds painful. It is! And awkward. Try putting on a bra or deodorant. Still no cast necessary thank goodness.
Now for the final twist, a snorkelling trip. This week I was determined not to cancel school holiday plans in Airlie Beach and a boat trip with Skipper John. He offered pool noodles, goggles and plenty of time for me to gingerly get in and out of the Paradise Explorer which lived up to its boaty name.
Fish, coral, colour and bubbles beneath the turquoise Whitsunday water soon had me forgetting my fractures. A giant Maori Wrasse floated by inquisitively and I felt sure he was judging my circular swimming style. My right arm paddled and my left arm stayed bent.
Life can be beautiful even when you’re broken.
