Fractures and female apparel

Well, sadly, it's been weeks since my last post. A lot has happened. I had a great rugby game, made a wonderful trip back to Toronto for Jen's birthday, and had an excellent Canadian thanksgiving long weekend here in the US (it's Columbus day here): Jen came down, we had a huge dinner party at my place, and a thanksgiving dinner with the Canadian Club.

During the course of these weeks, I also learned the technical term for the shoulder blade. (It's called the "scapula"). Unfortunately, I had to fracture said skeletal component in order to discover this. I'll use google next time.

It all happened in Portsmouth, Maine, where the HBS rugby club was taking on the Seacoast ruggers. At the half time, the HBS side were down 2 tries, and the coach thought he'd shake things up a little by throwing me into the game (I normally start on the "B" team, but played a decent game the prior week so got a chance to play on the "A" side, or the starting XV).

Anyway, they kick to us, I catch the ball and run up field...maybe 30 yards (I'm feeling good about it) then get hit REALLY hard (I'm feeling bad about it). Passed the ball just before being hit, and the play carried on, but I hit the ground so hard it took me a second to get up.

The ball eventually goes out of bounds, and in the brief pause I realize that, if required, I wouldn't be able to lift my right arm more than 20 degrees from my side. When this didn't go away, I decided to pull myself from the game, and writhed in pain for the remainder of the afternoon.

Not being able to lift my arm made it interesting trying to get my game jersey off. I had to lay on my stomach on the grass, and wriggle backwards out of it, trying not to cry out. However, I COULD bend over and let my arm swing through the full range of motion without tremendous increase in pain, and thus was told that it wasn't a dislocation, and therefore nothing to worry about.

I went out to dinner with friends (Steve and George..."The Dartmouth Guys"), and could barely put on my jacket. However the next morning there was modest improvement.

The following two days were better still, so I went to Tuesday rugby practice, but stipulated that I couldn't engage in contact. I soon found though, that passing the ball with my right arm was too much weight to support, and the healing progress from Saturday was completely undone by a 15 yard throw. I decided to get it checked out.

Harvard medical services does not disappoint. I phoned for an appointment and received one the same day. The doctor heard my story, frowned on the rugby playing, then scheduled x-rays which I waited approximately 2 minutes for.

The next morning, while in class, a nurse enters the classroom and tells me that she has received permission from the Dean to remove me from class (attendance is mandatory at HBS) because the doctor wants to discuss my x-rays. I grab my things and follow her.

I walk into Dr. Biller's office, and he tells me that I've got a fractured scalpula (and here, I learned a new word). He then goes on to say that I have an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon in 20 minutes. He hands me 2 taxi vouchers and says "There's a cab waiting for you in the parking lot to take you to your ortho appointment. I've scheduled CT scans for first thing in the afternoon IN CASE the ortho wants them. Here's another taxi voucher in case they need to operate, and you require transport to one of the hospitals. Please call after the doctor makes his assessment."

Wow. I felt like a pro athlete. Everything worked like clockwork. Turns out the fracture is off the joint in a place that doesn't usually bear much stress, except for a few scenarios which I've identified and never repeated. I'm out for 8 weeks, and need to take it easy. A shame, but rugby is out, unless I start drinking more milk and work on the upper body strength a little. One or both may come to pass...we'll see.

The rest of the time has been a blur of academics, quizzes, and group projects. Tonight is the much anticipated "Pricilla Ball" hosted by the Australia / New Zeland club. The theme is rather strange: the men dress as women, and the women dress as whores. I was lucky enough to inherit the famous outfit that is passed down to one lucky first year male in the Canadian Club each year: a black vynl fitted dress (with accessories). The main benefit being that I get to burden some other Canadian dude with it next year.

Look for the party debrief...coming sooner than 3 weeks from now.