My Butt is Not Broken

I have a new health plan. I had to pick it myself. Off of the NY health exchange. It was a scary process. I tried to make sure that our PCPs were in network. That we could go to the hospital if we had to. I thought that I had chosen okay. But then when I needed care from specialists or a dentist, I ran into issues. Trying to find a provider that was not far away. That I would not have to wait months for. I happened to take a look at my card the other day that lists the co-pays. $20 for my PCP. $40 for a specialist. $175 for a visit to the ER. 

Yesterday, I was leaving to go pick my son up from work from the farmstand. I was wearing my slippers (flip flops for you mainlanders). About halfway down the stairs, I just slipped. Just slipped. Even though the stairs have metal grippy things on them to prevent slippage. My feet went right out from under me and I landed on one of the steps firmly on my tailbone. I managed to sort of sprawl out and hold on. I managed to not slam my head against another step. I managed to not break my leg. But it hurt really badly. And it sounded like I heard something crack when I landed. I gave myself a quick assessment then ran upstairs to grab my donut cushion to sit on. I ran up to pick up my son, who of course was calling me because I was not there when he thought that I should be there.I told him I had fallen down the stairs which made him more sympathetic. 

I drove home and got myself up the stairs. I called a friend to see if I should go to the ER. I googled a broken tailbone to see if there was anything that could be done. There is not. I just felt like I really needed to know if it was broken or just bruised. I needed to know so I could plan my road to get back to running. I thought that broken versus bruised would entail a much longer recovery. I sat at home contemplating the ER for like an hour. Contemplating the $175 copay. Should I go? Should I not go. My friend said that she would not go. Her husband said that maybe I should go.

I ended up going anyway. I was triaged. I was x-rayed. The doctor told me that the coccyx bone was vestigial from when we used to have tails. I knew that. And it was not broken. I was told to take painkillers and only run if it did not hurt. That made sense.

While I was at the ER, the lady in the room next to me had been in the day before. She had a tooth infection and no insurance. While I was in the waiting room a doctor chatted with the intake nurse about his relationship. The guy’s name who took my x-rayn was Rock. Everytime I talked to someone else, they asked me how I had hurt myself. I wondered why. Did they have to ensure that I had not hit my head? That I was not on drugs? That the story that I told was consistent? I don’t know. I almost asked but I didn’t.

It was the longest amount of time that I had been inside anywhere. And even though a hospital is a scary place to be, it was nice to talk to other people. To people who were not the same ten people that I have seen since March (no offense to those ten people). 

 It has been a week since this happened and I am still pretty sore. I have trotted about very slowly and it does not hurt more. I have a hard time lying on my back. This is only an issue for the cat who expects to lie on my chest in the evening for nighttime loving. I try to do it for a bit for her but I eventually have to dump her off.

I”m glad that my butt is not broken. Maybe it was a warning. From the universe. A kick in the butt as it were. Or maybe it was to remind me that there is nothing normal And wishing won’t make that happen. That pain. As if I needed a reminder.

About nematomorph

Living like the rich and famous, splitting time between Hawaii and New York.
This entry was posted in Aging, fear, midlife crisis. Bookmark the permalink.

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