So as I started to come to the realization that my arm was broken, I tried to walk down the trail towards the river.

After a few steps, I started to go into shock from the pain. So I sat down on the trail and tried my best not to pass out.

My boss finally caught up to me, he had gone and stashed my bike up the hill in some brush.

“Don’t pass out!” he yelled.

“I’ll try not to, but I do need to sit for a minute.”

“Ok… but don’t pass out!”

So after sitting for a few minutes, the shock went away, and we started to walk down the trial. I figured out a way to hold my busted arm against my chest where it didn’t hurt too bad. It was crappy though, I had to walk at least a mile just to get to the river and on top of having a broken arm, I was wet all over from landing in the creek, and freezing cold.

Eventually my boss and I decided that it would be best if he took off down the trail to go see if he could get help from someone with a cell phone or something to that affect.

So he bolted down the trail, and I just kept walking thinking about how badly I messed up my arm, how long I was going to have a cast on… how much it was basically going to suck.

Eventually I got the trail, and after walking down the river for a mile or so, I saw a car driving up the trail.

“That must be for me.” I thought…

Sure enough, it was a friend of my Boss. She helped me into the car; I introduced myself, and asked to be taken to the local Catholic Hospital.

She was very nice, and took me there very quickly. Little did I know that the hospital was going to be a bad place for me to be.

I walked into the ER and checked myself in at the front counter. I was standing there shivering, and clutching my broken arm. I looked at the lady at the counter and told her my situation,

“I broke my arm pretty bad, and I am in quite a bit of pain.” I said.

“We will be with you in a minute, please have a seat.” She replied, in a very indifferent tone.

So I turned around and shuffled into the waiting room. It was PACKED! And packed full of a ton of white trash folks that had the flu. I couldn’t believe it… here I was wet, and in pain with an obviously broken arm. And I was waiting in the lobby of the ER with a bunch of sick white trash people. I was pissed.

After sitting for a couple of minutes, the lady that took me there made a suggestion…

“You know, we could go to a medical clinic? They could get you in faster, they’d probably do the same thing they are going to here to treat it, plus you wouldn’t be sitting in here with a bunch of sick people.”

“Sounds good to me.”

So we headed off to the clinic. Sure enough, I got right in and was treated as soon as I walked in the door. My parents were there as were my boss and his family.

They put a blanket on me, which was a major relief in and of itself. And proceeded to X-Ray my arm.

Sure enough, there was a pretty good looking break on the ulna bone. The doc put my arm in a sling, gave me some hard core pain killers, and referred me to a bone doc for the next morning.

So I went to my parents for the night, since I obviously wasn’t going to be able to drive myself anywhere, and went to bed. It was kinda funny, I had told my friend Andre earlier that day that he should come over and hang out at my place for the night. So while I was sitting in a clinic with a broken arm. He was knocking on my door, and wondering where the heck I was. Once I got settled in to my parents, I called him… needless to say, he understood why I wasn’t at my house when I said I would be.

The next day, I went to the doc. I was x-rayed again… and eventually when I met the doc, I received the bad news. Surgery was in my near future. I had succeeded in breaking not only my ulna, which was clearly visible, but I had also dislocated my elbow. Sweet.

So, I had to wait over the entire weekend, before the Doc was able to get me in for surgery.

My experience in the hospital was somewhat like Jaime’s. I remember the anesthesiologist visiting me first to explain my options.

“Ok Paco, you can have a local or a general anesthetic.” he stated.

“Can you explain them to me?” I replied.

“Sure, the general will just put you out for the entire surgery, and the local you would be awake during the surgery, we would just numb the arm.”


“However… the local isn’t foolproof. In fact it only takes about 80% of the time.”

I quickly chimed back. “If it’s not 100%, I don’t want it… put me under.”

A few more nurses, and the doc paid me a visit to discuss the surgery. The strangest part was when one of the nurses asked me to mark on my cast with a big black marker where my surgery was going to be. Strange… I guess they have too many people suing the hospital.

Eventually after waiting for a while, I was wheeled into the surgery room. And Jaime is correct, they keep it SUPER cold in there. It had to be about 50 in there, which isn’t all that comfortable when all you have on is a stupid hospital smock.

The anesthesiologist then plugged me into the happy juice. I chatted with him for awhile about where he was from, etc…

Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the recovery room.


Here it is 9 months after the surgery. The recovery has been hit and miss. The initial recovery went really well, I had the cast off in 10 days, and my physical therapy was SUPER easy, and quick.

The only problem has been the bone healing. As of my last x-ray in August, it still showed a slight fracture in the bone. My doc says not to worry, and recently it has felt the best that it has since that fateful day… so hopefully it is almost all healed up!