Medical care should not be do-it-yourself

29 January 2010

FRAN COPELAND, THE DAILY SUN

I am one of those fortunate people who never has suffered a confirmed broken bone.

I may have broken the big toe on my right foot last fall. I did not have it confirmed by X-ray because my COBRA coverage had run out less than 24 hours before I had one of those stupid household “accidents.”

It sometimes happens that way.

It was a freak accident. I had put two dark, patterned area rugs on the living room floor to protect the beige carpet.

One of the cats had left a dark and fuzzy toy mouse on one of the area rugs.

When I stepped on the mouse in my bare feet, I flew up in the air, catapulted by alarm, and when I landed I bent all the toes on both feet backward.

I then fell forward onto my knees and got rug burns on both legs.

When I saw the innocent thing I had stepped on, I cursed it and the critter who had left it there, along with the insurance companies.

I cursed the way my feet looked as I hobbled around for several weeks in leather sandals, the only shoes I could wear.

Black and blue do not go well with beige leather, and besides, it is awfully hard to find a bag to match.

I figured the medical folks do not do a lot with broken toes anyhow, so I taped my big toe to the one next to it and about a month later it felt much better.

I have a friend who also is uninsured. (Is this condition contagious?)

She either broke or dislocated a finger, straightened it out while clenching her teeth (I believe vodka was the anesthetic) and taped her fingers together until they felt better.

You do not get self-service in the ER, folks, and you generally do not get cocktails, either.

You do not always get “perfect” when doing it yourself, but some people, when it comes to their health, are learning to settle for less than “perfect.”

You sometimes get what you pay for, but you hardly ever get what you do not pay for.

My dad broke his ankle when I was in my teens. He got a bit grumpy because he could not work in his garden, could not check his lobster pots, and could not understand how he had broken a bone stepping off one step he had stepped off a million times in the past.

And I could not understand how, even when I was on the opposite side of the room from the invalid, I somehow managed to trip over his foot at least once a day.

Teenagers often are clumsy, but not that clumsy under normal circumstances.

I began to believe that divine intervention was involved because I was a strict follower of the Fifth Commandment, and there is only so much a God-fearing kid can do to get even with her father while still appearing to be innocent.

My cousin Sandy fell out of a garage attic onto a cement floor when she was 7. The family barbecue was sort of spoiled when it was discovered her leg was broken.

That girl shed not one tear. She always has had guts, but that level of stoicism in a 7-year-old is truly remarkable and almost scary.

I remember at least wincing and yelling rather loudly when my brother’s cow stood on my bare foot for several minutes without budging, but I used my cousin Sandy as a role model and did not cry.

I am glad I am related to a woman who can laugh her way through a broken leg.

I have a friend who once traveled to California with her small son in tow. They flew out to the west coast to visit family, and my friend went inline skating, which seems to have gone out of style.

She fell on a busy sidewalk, and when she tried to get up, she realized her toes were facing backward.

Surgery. Wheelchair. Crutches. Small child. Airports. Luggage. Flying. Weeks of recovery.

It did not go down in history as her best vacation.

I have another cousin named Pat who always was a star athlete.

My father used to pit us against each other: Who could run fastest? Jump highest? Hold their breath longest under water?

I can say I beat Pat in one area as an adult. It was not I who, at seven months pregnant, leaped over a bench while coaching a softball team, landed on a softball, flew up in the air and broke her leg.

It was Pat.

Nyah, nyah, nyah, Ms. Superwoman!

She really enjoyed the last two months of that pregnancy, and so did her husband, who is known in the family as Saint David.

The child turned out to be normal and even more athletic than her mom.

If you suspect you have broken a serious bone, like one you rely on to function or one which must bear weight, it is a good idea to have it checked out by a medical-type person, not your cousin Arnie the auto mechanic.

It cannot hurt.

Oops. Sorry. Yes, it can hurt and probably will. But only for a while. Then you will get over it.

And, if after you get your cast, sling or whatever, if someone offers you a lollipop, accept it with grace, if it is free.

There is darned little free stuff when it comes to medical care these days. Most everything will cost you an arm and a leg.

Fran Copeland is a Villages resident and freelance columnist. She can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it