Updates From Week of June 5

For me, the nursery rhyme could be updated as head, teeth, wrist, and ankle. Since my update last week, my physical condition has been improving. The idiom goes that time heals all wounds. However, with nuance and experience, I know that some wounds calcify. They turn hard and sharp and sometimes prick us unexpectedly…. In my townhouse, I have added a bright red corner desk facing the patio and a bird/squirrel feeder in the window.  My fridge has been stocked. I usually have at least three dessert choices and as many options in greens. Between the goodies in my fridge and the motley crew of visitors, spice, and variety are standards in my day. Nights, however, are a different story. I would welcome some boring days; sometimes, it feels like a plea. Could the world slow down a little bit? 

Only on Wednesday last week did I learn that my hand was more messed up than my leg.  This surprised my friends who saw my foot on the 15th.  During the last three weeks, Grady struggled to find a surgeon with time to work on my hand and wrist. Ultimately, I was assigned a surgeon at Emory’s Ortho Center, just 10 minutes from my home. On Friday, as I was being prepared for surgery and anesthesia, two nurses inquired how I ended up in their care bay. As I told them about my accident, they were both sympathetic.  The older nurse, who alluded to her years of wisdom in the profession, advised me to start suing all the parties involved. A deep dark cloud crossed my face. This is a really charged conundrum for me. I have lived my entire legal career avoiding personal injury practitioners. Nonetheless, that nurse was just one of three other medical providers who have also told me to do the same. 

Beyond this over-assertive help, the experience at Emory reminded me of what my Grady roommate Lola said. She said the staff at Grady neglected us; she had comparative experience. Now, so did I. At Emory, they did not drop medical equipment on my broken wrist. Nor did they destroy two of my flower arrangements. They also knew which doctor and which limb I had come in to work on. The Emory team even followed up with me within the time frames they said they would! Wow. I left there feeling we had mutual respect for each other’s time.

One of the cyclists on May 15th was a dentist. He reached out to ride organizers who relayed his offer to help me. Since I have had difficulties scheduling anything with an oral surgeon, I decided I might as well see the dentist first. Yesterday, at the dentist’s office, X-rays showed an ominous horizontal crack going through the top of the three teeth at the very front of my mouth. These will require a 3-D imaging tool that the dentist didn’t have. Meanwhile, I told the dentist that I wished to have my smile back, just at least for my birthday next week. The kind dentist created a composite on my front teeth, so I no longer appear to have come out of a bad bar fight. Though I’ve been advised not to eat hard apples with that front tooth, I can smile at people again!  I’ve never once gone to a dentist that was so gentle and kind. Even though his practice was over an hour away, I would actually go back to him by choice. The dentist comped the composite service and generously offered assistance after the additional imaging is done. For one reason or another, people have always told me they appreciate my smile. I used to grin inadvertently and shrug. It has been nice to return to smiling without pain. 

As I have always tried to do work that aligns closely with my heart, the most challenging part of this past week was being unable to participate in the second round of public comments about Cop City at city hall. I had been asked to return to work (after three unpaid weeks off) and could NOT justify asking someone for a ride downtown. This actually may have saved me a lot of trouble because while there is an elevator at City Hall, apparently, it was not working during the second public comments period (ADA issues, anyone?). Instead of attending in person after my work meetings, I watched the televised comments afterward. I watched for nearly 10 hours, napping for about 3 hours around midnight and then returning with some supernatural passion. I felt guilt (or something like being left out) when I saw friends, a familiar state legislator, and movement leaders participating at the podium. It stung that I couldn’t stand and say my piece there. I appeased myself by trying to tweet and spread the word.

On the 15th, when my accident happened, I had lined up for hours to be speaker number 218. After over 7 hours in the anxious line, I was tempted by the hubbub of the Atlanta Cycling Festival.  I wanted a tiny break and hoped to participate in the festival. I decided to join the festivities and return to City Hall after the ride. With little further deliberation, I left with a cyclist friend who just happened to be at City Hall and we rode up to the Georgia Beer Garden together. Ultimately the council members voted as they were suspected to.  Still, the lost opportunity stings. I chose to leave City Hall on May 15 and ride up to the Georgia Beer Garden. What if I hadn’t?

While my accident did not kill me, I suspect my friends are trying to kill me with kindness. After taking me to the dentist yesterday, my friend Buddy took me (and two other friends) to see a hilarious adult puppet show with Leonardo De Vinci as a crime-fighting hero. In one scene, Da Vinci rides a bike and smashes the villains with wheelies. Our whole crew laughed at this inside joke. If you will do tricks, at least smash a bad guy. Pre-wrist surgery, one friend painted my fingers with sparkles and glitter. Another sweet heart brought me hand-picked flowers and homegrown greens. Next week, I anticipate multiple opportunities to shine my fancy dental work around.