This post falls under the “It’ll feel better when it quits hurting” category. It was one of my Dad’s favorite sayings when any of us hurt ourselves. Every time he said it, I hated it a little more. The incident happened a week ago Wednesday afternoon. It has taken me this long to be able to stomach talking about the accident.
About 3 weeks ago while waiting with Sam at the West Michigan Center, I overheard a couple of staffers talking about their workouts and one said she tried running backwards on her treadmill like they did on the Biggest Loser. Hmm, I wondered,” that sounds like a change up.” I’m not sure what part of me thought it would be a good idea to face backwards and try to run on the treadmill. Maybe the same part that also told me to put my hands on the rails while doing so. (I am sure if I had another brain scan it show a lot more dead brain cells than before.} So I faced backwards held on to the rails and stepped on the machine.
Whoa Nellie! It seems I turned myself into a human slingshot of sorts. My feet were going one way and my arms pulled me the other. Meanwhile I heard a sickening POP and great pain in the middle of my chest. I knew immediately that I had done something to my sternum. Fast forward to ER, I indeed had fractured my sternum horizontally. It hurts to cough, hiccup, and sneezing is deadly. I slept the first couple of nights in the recliner even though I was on heavy duty painkillers. It’s been almost 2 weeks and I do feel like I am making progress, but I had to double pinkie swear to Sam, that I would stay off the treadmill this week. He put me on double secret probation when it comes to exercising.
While I have definitely proven to be a first class bone-head, I have also learned to remind myself that I am 61 years old and cannot do what I could do when I was 40 or even 50. (Even though I feel like I can.) What I did was foolish and stupid, and I can hear my Dad right now asking, “what the hell was I thinkin’?”