I had been really looking forward to day 17 – Thursday 20th July was my first appointment at the fracture clinic at Frimley Park. I say looking forward; I suppose there was an element of trepidation mixed in with the curiosity. I hoped I’d find out how my arm was progressing, if the bones were lining up, and above all that I’d be offered a more robust brace of some kind to give my wobbly arm more protection. I was also slightly nervous that there would be pain, that they’d try to manipulate my arm in some painful way (why, I have no idea?) or that fitting a new brace might hurt. Also that they’d look and say ‘I’m sorry, your bones are not going to meet up’. Totally irrational but that’s the nature of fear and the unknown!
We arrived in good time, not really sure what to expect. There were signs up warning people that if they needed both x-rays and plastering they could be in clinic for two to four hours. I knew I wouldn’t be getting plastered but settled in with a puzzle book in my bag, ready for a lengthy visit. The other clinic visitors appeared to be ankle and lower leg breaks at different stages of repair. One lad and his mum emerged smiling from the consultation rooms and went to the desk to hand in his crutches and leg brace. Job done! A few ladies with lower leg fractures were in wheelchairs. Once again I thanked my lucky stars.
In the event it was all quite quick. We were called in promptly and the doctor took a quick look and organised a chitty for an x-ray and a brace to be fixed (relief!), promising we could come back to ask questions afterwards. We moved into the plaster room as instructed but a nurse asked me to climb into a chair with a raised armrest and I stared at in fear, saying “I don’t think I can lift my arm onto there!”. She quickly realised we were in the wrong place and the consultant came back to see us again to explain he’d only been at Frimley a week and he’d got it wrong – an x-ray today was too early to see improvement. I needed a moulded plastic brace fitting though – so we were sent off to occupational therapy to get one sorted.
Before we left I checked a few things with him – pain relief, swelling, likely timescales. I don’t think we learned anything new. He said we’d have to experiment with the pain meds to get it right, and gave 10 to 12 weeks before I’d be able to have the brace removed. He said there was a possibility the union wouldn’t be perfect but up to 30% displacement was normal and my arm would regain full functionality. I was to return in two weeks to get the update x-ray.
Getting the brace
In occupational therapy we walked past the rooms full of crutches, stools and wheelchairs and found our way to the therapist, Jane, who was to fit the moulded plastic brace to my arm. She was very calm and gentle and put me at ease. First she measured and cut the plastic to a paper template. Then she put the plastic sheet into the warm water machine (like an electric bain marie) to soften it up. She pulled the tube stocking carefully up over my upper arm. It hurt at first with the pressure, but then felt snug. Her colleague Fiona came out to pull my elbow downwards in slight traction while they wrapped the plastic sheet warmly round my arm and then fixed the velcro round. The two velcro straps were pulled tight in opposite directions. It felt nice and secure and reassuring.
Jane suggested I try from time to time removing my wrist from the collar and cuff and gently lifting my hand up and down, supported, to ‘oil’ my elbow joint and stop it completely stiffening up. I also need to squeeze a ball and flex my wrist up and down.
I’ve spent two nights in it the brace now and it feels fine. We’ve only had to loosen and readjust it once so far. Tomorrow we will attempt to shower with it ON, but covered by a plastic bag or shield. In future we can try removing it to shower.
Today is day 14, two weeks on from splat day. Where does it go, eh?
I can report that things feel a little better in some ways, but are just as bad in others. There are still a great many things I can’t do – see below. Things that have improved or changed:
• I can move about more easily. Standing up, sitting down, stepping up and down are all more natural. I even managed to carry a cup of tea upstairs to my husband this morning.
• The involuntary spasms in my arm are fewer and painless now – a few sudden twitches. My arm still ‘clicks out’ from time to time but is less painful when it does.
• I’ve cut down a bit on painkillers. However my arm is getting heavy and achey. I guess the painkillers were masking that but I’m trying not to take any in the middle of the day, especially codeine which I am leaving to 3 times a day – evening, bedtime and early waking 5 to 6 am.
• I can put on my own proxy sling made out of a cotton scarf and tie it with my teeth. I can take off and put on my own dress and underwear.
• I can bend a little lower to pick up things from about knee height, as long as I bend my knees and keep my back quite straight. So crouching slightly with one foot in front of the other, or squatting in a ballet plié – style move. With ninja moves I can plug something into a wall socket by sliding my back down the wall. I can pick up things from the coffee table using kitchen tongs!
• I can lightly grip things in my left hand if careful.
Things that are still difficult
• I can still only sleep in my monster chair
• I can’t stand up from the normal sofa without assistance
• I cannot pick up anything from the floor. I’m sure somewhere I have a litter-picker-upper that I got as a prop for work but it can’t be located right now.
• My arm is in the sling 24/7. I don’t dare release it except supported by a cushion while I swap to the makeshift sling. It feels very vulnerable.
• I am still very wary of others’ movements near me.
• I can only type one-handed…. Slow and full of typos which keep needing correcting. I can’t type accented letters using the number keypad because the alt key is left of the space bar. I have to gently hold a pen in my left hand to keep ‘alt’ depressed. Tricksy. Scrolling and selecting on the laptop touchpad is challenging.
• Washing under my left arm. Still can’t lift my arm away from my side so poor left armpit only gets a gentle wipe with baby wipes – no chance of deodorant!
• I can’t completely close my fingers on the left hand yet – they are too swollen.
How’s it all looking?
• My upper arm still looks a bit concave
• Some bruising – it took a week for any to show and it wasn’t as dramatic as I thought it would be – but I noticed this evening it’s a bit ugly and green underneath my elbow, where the blood pools I guess.
• My left hand isn’t as swollen but I still can’t make a fist or grip anything
• My feet, lower legs and upper legs are still rather swollen but much better if I spend time with my feet raised. I’m not looking forward to having to wear shoes.
• My tummy is still bloated. I’ve gained 6 pounds, wah!
The other thing to report is itching. Argh, the skin is dry and it gets sweaty under my elbow where my arm is resting. One good time to not be wearing a cast. At least I can have a gentle scratch.
The telephone conversation with the doctor about sleeping (or lack of it) on Day 3 wasn’t very helpful… best advice he had was to play with the timing of the drugs I have (paracetamol, codeine sulphate, Naproxen – a rather vicious NSAID). If I can, the plan is to ensure I have paracetamol and codeine just before settling down to sleep. This is fine except you’re supposed to not have the codeine on an empty stomach so that has to be factored in. I’m not a fan of eating just before bedtime but needs must. A bit of cheese, a cup of tea, a choc-ice. Or a banana or yoghurt maybe. Really not things to be putting in your tummy at this time of night.
Anyway, by Friday, day 5, I knew I needed a better solution for sleeping. What I needed was a reclining chair. I recalled from seeing them in furniture shops that they are really expensive – hundreds of pounds – so that wasn’t going to happen. I wondered if anyone had one I could borrow. I spoke to someone on Friday morning who said, ‘Have you tried the local Red Cross?’ I confess, I’d never thought of that – but hell, why not? I called them but they closed for the afternoon and I knew I couldn’t wait until Monday so I asked on Facebook in my local town’s group. Several people suggested local charity shops, so I thought I’d give it a try. To my very great surprise, the local Phyllis Tuckwell Hospice Shop knew exactly what I was talking about and said there was an electric ‘rise and recline’ chair in stock in their Frimley store. I was uncertain – £185 still seemed like a lot of money. But maybe – what price a decent night’s sleep after all? I left it to discuss with Geoff.
Next morning, Geoff went to parkrun as usual. On return, he said our friends had a reclining chair their brother in law had slept in successfully with a broken collarbone and would I like to borrow it? That was very kind! I said ‘Yes please!’ They came round late afternoon – but it was too low for me, more of a garden recliner and tipped too far back. ‘I’ll keep looking,’ I said. ‘What you need,’ said friend Mark, ‘is one of those electric ‘Rise and Recline’ type chairs like old people have. ‘Funny you should say that!’ I replied, explaining to both Mark and Geoff about the one at the Phyllis Tuckwell shop. So the guys agreed to head over there quickly before it shut and see if it was suitable.
And here it is! My monster chair!
It’s fab. It has a motor allowing smooth motion in recline and to tip the seat up, helping me to standing position more easily. The footrest also rises automatically so I can sit with my feet raised to try to get my lower leg swelling down (it’s working!).
My sleep on Saturday and Sunday nights was miles better – two big chunks of sleep, and woke feeling rested and relatively pain free. Amazing!
Since then it’s been mixed. Still, way better than sleeping on the sofa, I have a squishy cushion behind me on the left to support my bad arm and stop it flopping too far back. I am experimenting with how far back I can tip to still be comfortable, and how far raised my feet need to be. Also with pillow position to ensure my head doesn’t flop forward or to the side and get too stiff. I have a very light chenille throw over me as I sleep. It’s really very, very comfortable and practical. Getting up to go to the loo or get more paracetamol in the night is made easy with the ‘rise’ function.
I am very much reminded of this:
I am still waking in the night in discomfort – I’m not a natural back-sleeper and I get stiff hips when sitting for a long while – but at least I can then sit up or get up easily to stretch, reposition my arm, rub my stiff bum, give my legs a shake out etc
So if you are in my position, and can beg, borrow or buy one of these chairs. I really recommend it!
The scariest thing about a mid-shaft humeral fracture is that it isn’t protected by a cast. That was an eye-opener, being sent home with just a collar and cuff. I’d always thought those were for people with minor wrist injuries, not major limb breaks! The idea is that gravity provides the traction needed to align the bones. It’s the ‘natural’ way to set them, referred to as the ‘conservative’ approach vs surgery/pinning. There are massive drawbacks though.
You have to keep the upper arm as loose and vertically suspended and relaxed as possible. For the first few days, I spent a lot of time sitting bolt upright on the sofa or standing at a kitchen counter, or sitting at my desktop pc. The problems come with moving from one state to another. Standing up from the sofa got harder and harder. At first I was all bravado… “My quads are going to get a great workout!”. It is certainly easier to push up through your legs. You can’t lean at all, well, not by much, without feeling your bone shifting and pain shooting through your lower arm. So the best way to get to standing is to squat and push up. Going to the loo gets easier with practice. I have been staying downstairs to use the downstairs loo, which is narrow so enables me to grip the radiator on the right hand side to balance while sitting down and up. After one day though, with all this standing and sitting vertically, my lower legs began to swell again, and my muscles got tired. More on this swelling later.
the best way to get to standing is to squat and push up
In any case, I decided after a couple of days not to try to be brave, but just to avoid sitting down low if I didn’t have to, and to make sure I had a support of some kind to my right or to ask for help if I needed it. I even tried a walking stick to try and stand but that didn’t work. I rejected the low garden chairs and asked for my office chair to be taken outside.
If you need to stay upright, how do you sleep? On day 1, husband Geoff made me a nest in one corner of the sofa, with loads of pillows and cushions to hold me up while I slept. The problem is, twisting to lift your feet off the floor is agony, and over night, as you relax, you flop backwards into the sofa or sideways onto your bad arm. Getting back up to the vertical feels panicky and painful. If you manage, exhausted, to find a comfortable position to sleep, it doesn’t last long, your lower back, hips and legs get stiff. For the first two nights I spent a few hours at a time with my legs on the floor, asleep sitting propped up on the sofa. Best I could do but it wasn’t ideal. Getting up in the night for pain relief or the toilet was a whole traumatic experience leading to at least an hour awake, making strategies for getting to my feet, trying, failing and trying again. No fun at all.
The second night I awoke in pain at about 5am and decided to make the expedition upstairs to wake my husband for some co-codamol I had stored away in the bathroom. I knew taking co-codamol on top of my prescribed paracetamol and codeine was a bad idea but I was desperate. I decided to call my doctor in the morning for advice on how to better get through the night – perhaps something to knock me out so I could get at least six hours, perhaps…?
like the princess and the pea
I started to realise I needed to come up with a better solution for sleeping. For the 3rd and 4th nights I experimented with different ends of the sofa and with piling on more sofa cushions to give me more height vs the floor – like the princess and the pea. But by Day 4 Friday, I also had another idea… I started looking for a reclining chair.
With your arm supported only by a piece of spongey sling at the wrist and round the neck, your broken arm feels terribly exposed. If you think about it, with the humerus bone snapped, the entire lower arm is connected by just the muscle, tendons, arteries and nerves, it sometimes feels like an artificial limb dangling off a living stump. Every little movement results in a crunching, grinding or popping sensation, with or without pain. Sometimes the bone pops out sideways again, making the muscle spasm and tense involuntarily.
You become quite scared in order to protect your injured limb. Tiny jolts can cause it to spasm – so you do anything to avoid tiny jolts. You walk around at snail’s pace, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. Gliding as much as possible. Don’t knock into doorways, countertops, other people. I am SO glad not to have boisterous small children or pets around. Avoid steps… stepping down with your injured-side leg first is OK – but stepping back up on either side is hard without help or a support to keep you on the vertical.
my husband and I manoeuvre around each other like tanks
Even now, the idea of falling, or of being attacked by an intruder, keep popping into my mind as I shuffle around the house. It’s hard not to become fearful. There’s definitely no question of going anywhere away from the house and garden until I have to for my next X -ray. It’s lovely when friends come round to chat – it has been brilliant having them round, but there’s a tacit understanding they need to keep their distance – don’t touch me. My husband and I manoeuvre around each other like tanks, being careful not to collide anywhere. He moves towards me proffering a cushion for comfort, I flinch. It’s not nice at all.
Relax and let it hang
If you get it wrong in the first days, you will find your bone sticking out again and locked out of position, with your muscle firm and proud. This really hurts and feels uncomfortable and it’s easy to panic and tense up. Each time this happened to me I said out loud to myself, ‘Relax, breathe, loosen. Relax, breathe…’ and by allowing my left shoulder to relax and droop and my arm to dangle, eventually gravity pulls the bones back into alignment with a series of pops and clicks. Such a relief!
After a few days you will work out what works for you and what range of motion you can manage. I find I can lean a little to my right so that left upper arm is stretched along my ribs and supported by my torso. You have to be careful straightening up again though.
I’ve also learned I can lean forward slightly so long as I allow my left arm to dangle in its sling and on the vertical still. This helps to get your arm back if it clicks out. It has proven helpful for washing and drying myself and changing my dress.
As I fell, the thought which flashed through my mind was ‘Don’t crack your head!’ So I didn’t, which is a plus. I was surrounded by friendly faces who knew how to make me comfortable and to call an ambulance – which was lucky. My husband was at home and only ten minutes’ drive away, which was a bonus.
The journey to the hospital, as previously mentioned, could have been smoother, but at each bend or bump in the road I thought, ‘Thank goodness I only have one limb affected.’ I couldn’t help but remember, as I cradled my poorly arm in its loose sling, people whom I knew had suffered more than one fracture – my friend Marjory’s mum in a car crash last year, my friend Jilly and her daughters with brittle bones, a former colleague’s near-death motorbike crash… one break is bad enough, what on earth would multiple ones be like? Eek!
Then I started thinking about those movies where someone is called upon to escape or change location with a broken limb… and I’m thinking yeah, right, you’d never be able to do that! But it must happen in real life, there must be people who daily suffer in countless ways while also sustaining a fracture, who manage to get through it. Then I thought of people who don’t come out unscathed. The guy at our parkrun whose broken ankle became infected, leading to amputation of his lower leg; the friend of a colleague whose leg was in plaster when he developed thrombosis and died, and so on… I suddenly felt very fortunate indeed with my paltry broken humerus. I started thinking not of the things I would not be able to do, but the things I could *still* do, must try to get better for, and would challenge myself to do.
As the days have gone by I’ve felt very lucky in many other ways and continue to do so…
- It’s summer, so I don’t have to worry about dressing to keep warm. I can pad about barefoot and step into the garden for vitamin D
- I have a wonderful husband who goes out of his way to care for me
- I live in a civilised country with access to free healthcare.
- I don’t have small children to care for
- I don’t have pets to worry about
- It’s a clean, apparently uncomplicated, break
- I’m not ill in other ways. The thought of being sick and needing to vomit is a terrifying one when I can barely squat to pick things up from a coffee table, let alone kneel and stand again (I can’t lean off vertical at all – we’ll come to the ‘can’ts’ later!)
- I work at home – so can carry on best I can with my business while taking the time I need to rest
- Because I work at home I can slob about in whatever is most comfortable to wear
- I’m just coming to the end of a really busy period at work so there is an opportunity ahead to get some proper rest without feeling guilty
- I was reasonably fit at the time of my tumble. Although I’d had the infected leg, my history over the past three years includes lots of distance and trail running, some weight loss and strengthening exercises. This meant I recognised really quickly that squatting slightly and using my thighs to stand, get up and down from the loo, go up and down stairs etc, would be useful to me.
- I found my monster chair after five days in a hospice shop and it’s been a godsend.
- Lovely friends have rallied round to visit, keep me company, bring food, flowers, fruit, puzzles and activities and strapless sundresses.
Things could be so much worse. I’m a very lucky lady.
Yeah, so I didn’t bounce, that was the problem. 11 days ago this evening, I was in A & E at Frimley Park, waiting to be seen. I waited three hours from arrival and admission until a friendly nurse came to dose me up on painkillers and organise my trip to X ray.
What had led me there was a stumble while playing netball. Heavy legs were recovering from a 5km run the day before and three weeks off prior to that following an infected fly bite. My sluggish legs couldn’t quite respond when I spun and lunged for the ball. The ball bounced away into another player’s hands. I crashed to the ground. I still don’t remember exactly how I landed, only that fraction of a second where I was aware I was about to fall and I recall thinking ‘Don’t crack your head on the tarmac!’. So instead I landed heavily on my elbow and upper arm, and there was a definite ‘pop’ as I crumpled to the ground and rolled slightly onto my back.
Play was moved to another court and a kind group of volunteers stayed with me while my husband was called and, once it was established that I couldn’t stand up, an ambulance too. As I sat leaning against another player’s legs, I cradled my left arm and my team mates took a look at the damage, fetching ice packs. The expression on their faces told me that it must be pretty bad – but I wasn’t sure, and neither were they, whether I’d broken a bone, my elbow, my wrist, or dislocated my shoulder.
Five hours later the picture became clear, but not before I’d endured torture at the hands of the radiographer. She needed her angle. I couldn’t let go of my lower arm. She needed me to hold my hand flat. I couldn’t twist it. I cried. She must see it all the time. Maybe not a silly 50 year old woman in a too-tight netball dress, perhaps. The dress and t shirt I’d been wearing had to be cut away at the shoulder so the paramedics could tend to me. Later, it had to be cut off completely and chucked in the bin.
Turns out Monday is the busiest night of the week at Frimley A & E. Two people told us this – the first was the paramedic who brought me in (he was brilliant, but I did ask him why they couldn’t fit better suspension on ambulances – I’d had to suck on the gas and air over every bump in the road and round every roundabout, even though they’d driven sedately). His hypothesis – later reiterated by a Samaritans volunteer who popped his head in for a chat – is that people get injured and ill over the weekend but hang on til Monday to check it out with the GP before reporting to hospital with their minor injuries or conditions requiring admission.
Luckily I had Geoff there with me. Because of this, we were left alone once being found a room to wait in. No-one came to give me any more pain relief, but I could have asked Geoff to go and request some if needed. It was just a long, boring wait. We played i-Spy. As it approached midnight I exhorted Geoff to head home for some rest. I thought I might be up most of the night awaiting attention – but I didn’t know about the dashboard which would show me as red after 3 hours. Geoff insisted on waiting – since he thought once I was x rayed he’d have better information about how long I was likely to take before being allowed home.
In the event it all happened quickly just after 1 am. I was wheeled to x-ray by the gentlest porter in the world, screeched in pain at the hands of the x ray woman, then wheeled back. The doctor came in soon afterwards and the image was flashed up on screen. A nice, clean, but total fracture of my humerus, mid-shaft and displaced – which explained why the side of my arm was bulging like Popeye’s.
The nurse, Dan, squeezed a dose of Oramorph into my mouth before telling me the bad news. He was going to fit me with a collar and cuff sling and it was probably going to hurt. No casts are applied for upper limb fractures, above the elbow or above the knee. My fracture was unlikely to need pinning – although the doctor promised to call in the morning after review with colleagues. The ‘conservative’ approach is preferred for bone setting wherever possible, rather than surgery. This meant I would most likely be left with my arm in a simple collar and cuff strap to allow the bones to align naturally, and sent home with an array of painkillers.
After an initial false start, during which my arm muscle blew up and twitched in spasm due to the angle of the bone at that time, with Nurse Dan telling me to ‘Stop doing that’, to which I, panicking, yelled ‘I’m not doing anything!’, the collar and cuff sling was finally fitted. It was comfy enough, and Dan’s good advice to ‘relax, breathe, and let gravity do its thing’ has stood me in good stead repeatedly since.