Tengo una Clavícula Rota

I have a broken clavicle (aka collarbone).

Of course, the big question is: How did it happen?

Well, I broke it during a soccer game, my second one that day, in fact.  Here is a lengthly, detailed description from my point of view.  At least, this is what I think went down.  I'm not sure I remember it quite right.  You'd have to ask a witness.

Here I was, dribbling the ball.  I was going down the right side of the field, between the center circle and the sideline.  There was a girl from the other team coming at me.  Just before she got to me, I kicked the ball away and put in a little burst of speed, attempting to run around her.  However, she came in and collided with my right knee and thigh which caused me to tumble forward.  At this point, I may or may not have been suspended in air.  I think I was.  My momentum carried me forward and gravity pulled me toward the ground.  Now, I have been in this situation before with almost the same exact tackle.  That time, I simply rolled out of it.  I was tripped, went off the ground, tucked in my head and shoulder, hit the ground, rolled a bit, then popped up like nothing happened.  Literally, I didn't feel a thing, not even a bruise.  Keep in mind all of this happened in seconds so it was more of natural instincts kicking in that left me pleasantly surprised afterward when nothing hurt.

This time was different.

You can probably already predict what happened.  Instead of rolling properly, I fell really hard and really "wrong" on my left shoulder.  This is the part that is most fuzzy in my memory so it's difficult for me to explain it in detail.  What I can tell you with absolute confidence is that it hurt.  In all, it was a bad landing.  My body was like what just happened? I strangely did end up doing some sort of roll onto my back and then onto my stomach.  From there, I curled up into that position where the top of my head was touching the ground and I was on my knees and elbows.  This was when I started comprehending pain both in my knee and in my left shoulder.  The combination of pain and pure shock (What's going on?! Nothing is working right! Not good, not good, ahhh!) created tears and I started crying.  In all honesty, I don't think there was enough pain to warrant crying, so I'm going to say it was the shock.

I tried getting up.

That didn't work.

I was definitely thinking something was wrong (might have been because I couldn't move my left arm).  I moved into sitting position, as requested by my teammates.  The ref had blown his whistle (it was an obvious foul) and asked if I needed a sub.  I replied yes.  My teammates also suggested I lay on my back, which I did, waiting for my coach to come.  One of them asked me what hurt; I told her it was my knee and my arm.  The coach arrived and asked "What is it?"  I was glad my teammate replied, repeating what I had told her.  My coach helped me up and then carried me (piggyback style) across the field.  I think he had my knee in mind more than my shoulder/arm, which makes sense as ACL injuries are nothing to mess with.  Unfortunately, I could only hold on with one hand, which must have looked weird.

When we got off the field, my coach set me down, asking me questions and examining my knee.  From what I understood, my knee didn't hurt in the right areas for an ACL/MCL tear, so that was good.  Furthermore, the pain was beginning to subside.  My shoulder, on the other hand, was the opposite.  My other coach was at the game, too, and asked how I fell on it (which direction and such).  I couldn't tell him, and even now I don't know.

Long story short, my family took me immediately to the clinic.  I say clinic because we went to a clinic, not a hospital.  Since I wasn't going to die or anything, it wasn't worth a trip to the emergency room that would cost five times more money than the clinic would.  After a substantial wait, a nurse came out and called my name.  I got up, went in, and got situated on a bed.  She asked me some questions and gave me an ice pack.  The x-ray room was being used so we waited a little longer.  I had to remove my shirt and sports bra and put on a hospital gown for the x-ray; it wasn't fun, but at least I didn't have to have my soccer jersey cut off.  X-rays were taken and the doctor came in and told us it was certainly broken.   They put me in a sling and basically said "keep it still, and it will heal."  So that's what I'm doing.

My broken collarbone.
X-ray courtesy of Park City Clinic.

However, the most important part of this post is that I typed the whole thing with only ONE HAND.  Man, what an accomplishment!  People have told me I'm fortunate that I am right-handed and still able to write, but in this day and age, typing is pretty common, too.  For those of you who are unaware, typing requires both hands. Would I rather write a two page hand-written response on paper (AP Human Geography) with my non-dominant left hand?  No, not at all, but typing two multi-paragraph essays for the end of year English state test (and this post) is no walk in the park.

***I was highly kidding about the above paragraph, I do realize there are worse things in life than using one hand for a few weeks.  That was just the ungrateful, spoiled teenager inside me pitifully complaining.