Dreams and Visions

Do you ever have intensely vivid dreams? Dreams so real that it almost hurts to leave it; to re-enter the real world seems somehow foreign and obtuse?

Recently I had been reading and old journal entry from years ago about a dream I'd had. My recollection of the experience of this dream flooded my memory like it had happened just the night before.

The dream began with a simple family outing in our minivan. "I'm going to show you where I used to live," I said as I spontaneously took a freeway exit to drive through my old neighborhood. As we slowly drove the desolate streets, I regaled them with tales of this wonderful place; the shops and businesses, the amenities and local scene. I parked the minivan and we got out to stand in front of the largest of the remaining buildings, a three-story shopping and apartment building. I began describing in detail each shop and facility, where I lived and how we all worked and lived together here happily.

Then suddenly the dream changed from a narration to a flashback: I was at once whisked away to a brighter, happier time when the place was bustling with activity and merriment. Here now people lived, worked, laughed, loved, planned, built and prospered in a close-knit community under sunny skies. And then the dream changed into a news report with a montage of  images of shops being closed and families moving out of town, while the voiceover narration described the tragedy in sequence. Soon all that was left were darkened buildings, closed doors and empty streets. 

As I came out of the flashback and my own narration trailed off, I looked up at the desolate cinderblock edifice which stood on a wild, overgrown field while the cool wind and harsh sun pressed hard on it to yield back to the soil. The kids ran through the grass oblivious to the depth of significance the memories held for me. My wife stayed at my side and held my hand, listening and smiling kindly.

When I woke, the meaning of the dream hit me immediately. 

Just a week before, our company announced major budget cuts and devastating restructuring. Our group was one of many that would be impacted, meaning we would be focusing on new projects and new methods. It would also see the exodus of a vast majority of the team I'd hired on with. The "old team" was no more, and all that remained was a crumbling ruin of what we'd had, and bittersweet memories for those of us who decided to remain.

I think the dream is a lesson. Life is a journey, an adventure down a highway. There are stops along the way, but nothing permanent. Our experiences stay with us as memories, and they can be sweet, but it's important to not dwell where life used to be.  

A Callus Affair

We are currently enjoying week 6 of our adventure in skeletal fractures, with the rib pain becoming more of a footnote (with the exception of the pain they deliver when I'm riding in the passenger seat when my wife is driving and she makes one of her famous sharp left turns), and the humerus shaft now firmly joined by what the experts label the "Hard Callus" - a pre-mineralized cartilage profused with blood vessels and bone-building cells.

Rather than use a cast, the doctor decided in my case the best option was to immobilize my upper arm using something called a Sarmiento brace. This is a hard plastic clamshell sort of thing that secures with Velcro. It provides a Stormtrooper-esque level of protection: not enough to stop blaster fire penetration but plenty to keep the bones from shifting or getting bumped around.

My most recent X-ray was two weeks ago, and though my untrained eye would argue that the bones are still entirely separated, I was assured that there was callus formation going on. The fact that my arm aches nearly all the time is a good indicator that there's a lot happening; more than can be seen via X-ray.

Also, my arm doesn't wobble or crunch any more when I shift it. That is a huge relief. I had imagined a few years of living with an arm bone that would never actually join together and solidify, just forever flap around like a gooseneck filled with gravel. Every time I'd bump my arm it would send me through the roof in agony. There was one time I walked right into a door frame with my right arm, and the pain nearly made me pass out. And of course I will always remember when Michael decided to plop himself next to me while I was sitting on the couch, and landed his butt directly on my forearm. I swear I saw actual stars that time. His explanation? He had "forgotten" that I had a broken arm.

Each incident like this, and there were a lot of them (most entirely my fault), led me to believe that I'd never be able to heal naturally, that I would forever be re-setting the process back to square one, and that I'd need surgery like pins or a rod or an external fixator.

But no, despite everything, the healing process has gone very well, and I'm right where I should be by this point.

Physical Therapy is my new dread. To be fair, the fact that I'm at this stage now and I'm able to do the work is very encouraging.

But it hurts!

I cannot bend my arm down to my side due to tendon shortening, so that is an area of focus. I cannot squeeze my hand to grip things, so that is an area of focus. It hurts to turn my hand over, bend my wrist or touch fingers together. I cannot write or lift my hand to my mouth. All of these simple things will need weeks of work to re-establish.

It's a long road ahead.

An unexpected break

 This summer was supposed to be one of hard work, restoration and relaxation. 

But God had other plans in mind.

I was slated to take an eight-week sabbatical from my job, a perk offered by my company after a consecutive seven years of employment. This would have been my third. 

And none too soon; I had been feeling over-stressed and heading towards burn out for some time, and was looking forward to a well-earned respite from the high pressure environment in which I work. The project I was working on was heading toward a deadline that coincided with the beginning of vacation, and I was determined to hit the mark. This meant working long days and weekends, something I vowed I'd never do. If a company has to compel its employees to do that, then the real solution is to hire more employees or reduce expectations.

I was so looking forward to working in our yard: digging in the dirt, planting new shrubs and trees, landscaping with rocks, creating a water feature, adding awesome lighting, and generally turning our backyard into the tropical escape we had been dreaming about. 

Then, on Monday June 21st, all my plans evaporated.

You see, our little Pacific Northwest town was going to be hit with a phenomenal heat wave. So I decided to put a sun shade up in the entryway skylight. This was a 4 x 4 opening about twelve feet off the floor, sloping upwards with the vaulted ceiling. I'd made a shade using shiny cloth strung between tension rods. Normally I'd haul in the 24 foot ladder to install the shade, but being lazy I decided to try using the 9 foot ladder propped up against the closet door. 

I had the shade nearly installed, and just needed to press one side in... so I reached out to push using all my weight, and it gave way - leaving me with zero resistance to keep me up. So down I went like a bag of cement, landing with a resounding thud on the entryway floor.

Poor Michael, who had been assisting, ran around the house panicking, thinking his dad must be dead. He called out to his mom, not knowing she was at work.

I yelled for him to call 911, as I knew I had broken something. There was no way I could land that hard without a fracture.

He texted his mom, who arrived minutes after the EMTs. I knew when I saw her face in the entryway window I was in big trouble.

Fast forward to the hospital, the diagnosis was an oblique mid-shaft fracture of the right humerus and fractures of right ribs 6, 7 and 9.

I worked out a medical leave of absence with my boss, got coverage for the project, and will be taking sabbatical next year. We have hired a handyman and landscaping services to take care of our big projects, and are putting off completion to next year. My lovely wife has some time off work to help me recover, and I'm doing my part by staying still and doing nothing.

So, I guess I got that break I wanted, by getting a break I didn't want.

Funny how things work.

And I am *so very* banned from ever getting on a ladder again.