Broken elbow and homeless

Oh what an adventure I have just been through.
I rented my apartment for one year putting everything into storage. That Monday I was packing the last of my things, one pile of suitcases would stay in my car for my trip north (after I returned in a month from S. F.) the other pile of cases going to S. F. I took in a breath and lay down to rest on a mattress on the floor that I had kept behind for my last two nights in the apartment. I was about to meet the the girls for mah jongg; yup I play. I was proud of my accomplishment of getting away for a year and now only two days away from my departure.

AND THEN I STOOD UP. From out of no where my heels went straight out in front of me; I had poured some Clorox on the floor and had forgotten to wipe it up. I went crashing backwards, screaming, as my back and elbow hit the floor; Oh yes, the hardest, brightest white epoxy floor that one could ever imagine especially designed by me for me. I lay for a time trying to come to myself, and realized I could get up which is always a good sign.
In pain I drove to the emergency ward and 6 hours later was diagnosed with a broken elbow and sent to an orthopedic surgeon. The next day, one day to go now till vacating day, I ran for a referral; you know those HMO'S, and when I saw the Dr. after a 2 hour wait, he said, "bad, bad, you need a specialist who does elbows, I do not touch a break like yours." I looked around his waiting room and could not believe my eyes, people were coming in on stretchers, on walkers, on crutches with broken up and down bodies; was my astonishing black and blue elbow actually worse than those injured souls? I would be homeless within 24 hours; what was I going to do? All bets were off for me to go to S.F. And then I realized it might be less overwhelming for me to actually go to Ca., after all I was guaranteed a bed with my son and family!

I decided to go." I am going," I said. I would blow off the elbow specialist, my second referral. Oddly enough I was not in much pain. I lay down on the floor mattress to sleep, ready to leave in the A. M. and waited for the alarm to go off. I was startled out of my sleep at 5:00 A.M. "What am I crazy, how can I go, how can I endure such a flight with two changes no less? So at 5:15 A. M. I cancelled the flight and shuttle service, and at 9:00 A. M. I was ready to vacate my apartment.
I did a once mop over with my good hand, the valet packed my mustang with just enough room for me to sit. There I went, driving my self to the specialist assuming he would admit me pronto and I at least would beat the game and not be homeless. The hospital would take good care of me. I figured it out perfectly!

The specialist agreed that an operation was the only way to go; but not just yet. It would take at least 5 days over Easter and Passover weekend to get it together and with that he said, ' There is s no harm in you going to S. F. and having it done there.' OMG, should I really re-book? My son agreed," come on out; I don't know why you cancelled in the first place." With my car packed, I drove back to my building where I would leave my car, stopped at Walgreen's to fill a prescription to avoid blood clotting on the flight and called the shuttle service to pick me up to board my new re-booked flight in the A. M.

I took the suitcases for S. F. leaving the rest in the car as planned, and boarded the shuttle service having made a reservation to sleep at an air port hotel. I would fly out early the next morning.

The shuttle took me to the wrong hotel. After arguing with the receptionist that I had a reservation, I realized it was true; I had mixed up the hotel name, so back in the van with all of the cases, my head spinning, and finally arriving at a lovely place with two of the most delicious beds I ever saw and collapsed into one of them for the night.

I had made the right decision; I would endure the plane ride but then it would all be smooth sailing with lots of attention from my family.

Until I opened up my e-mail and found a message from my son. "Mom, how bout going to Lake Tahoe for the weekend?" I could not believe what I had just read. That did it. I was shattered, homeless, broken, in pain, needing an operation, exhausted, but that statement pushed me to where Thelma and Louise went.

What was wrong with him; how could I come off of a seven hour flight and drive four hours the next day to Tahoe in a van with the kids? OMG. In his defense, he figured, nothing will happen till next week, so why waste a perfectly good ski weekend? Exactly, except that I needed tender loving care and was willing to travel 3000 miles to get it! it was not about you dear son. My blood soared, my sister called her nephew while I freaked out knowing I would now cancel my second flight. I would stay in Miami and would give the TLC to my self. I had now spent $300.00 in re-booking fees within 24 hours.

I fell into a deep sleep. I called the surgeon the next morning and said," I am your patient; please operate." He said, you need to get to the hospital today for pre op or I can not operate for a whole week. I was devastated; there was no way logistically that I could get back to the hospital and what about all of my luggage; how could I move into the hospital with all of my things and I would need a room to come back to. It was Passover, nothing mattered; I had an English muffin.

The hotel was quite nice, I rested and decided that it was not life threatening so would let the week go by and stay put; not so bad, as long as I was comfortable. The Dr. called back the next day, reconsidering," get to the hospital tomorrow and I will do the surgery on Monday."

It was a date, but wait, I had to find a place to stay post op. Remember I was homeless.

Craig's list brought up two possible apartments; I made arrangements to take a look at them both on the way to surgery

My little brother Mark was born to save me that Saturday morning. He picked me up, in his 27 year old Cadillac; he had a brand new sports car, but since I had so much luggage it would never fit. The only problem was that every time we stopped, we prayed it would start. We made it to South Beach to apartment one, and I would have taken anything that was half way decent but not that disaster, better to live with a broken elbow sleeping on the beach. The bed was in the kitchen and when I picked up the window shade it was hiding a parking garage. But yes, the ad was true, it was on the beach. P. S. for $1200.00 a month.

We got back in 27 year old and stopped at hotels along the way just in case apartment two did not work out. But either the receptionist was off duty or the sign to the office was pointed in the wrong direction, there was literally no one to talk to and I was exhausted from running around South Beach and had to get to the hospital immediately. We continued on to apartment two, and yes, it was great. Just a hotel room with big windows, light bright and ready. I booked it for my return.

But what to do with the luggage? I did not want to rent the room 5 days early just for luggage storage, so we brought it all back to my car and packed it up again with the N. Y. luggage. Mark and I stopped for a Starbucks and proceeded to the emergency ward. I hugged him and thanked him goodbye.

No sooner did he leave that I realized I had gone to the wrong emergency ward. The nurse said, "don't worry, it is just across the street;" I believed her. In the Miami heat with my hospital bag on wheels I walked 10 blocks to the right emergency ward, and 10 hours later after all of the pre op tests I was admitted to a private room with the second best bed I ever did see. The 10 hours in the emergency ward showed me life on the inside, the terrible traumas people go through and now I was one of them, flattened down to a pulp, helpless, homeless and broken. I always thought I was younger and stronger than all of the poor souls who had misfortunes. I was learning fast to be compassionate and human.

Hospitals don't care; there is no time zone, what is wrong with being awakened at 4:00 A. M for a X ray ? Does it matter? If one thinks they are going to a hospital for rest, forget it. I then got the surprise of my life, my son Eric from Vt. came to visit. True he had a business appointment the next day, but decided to come one day early to see me. It was great, he listened to my nonsense and pain. I told him that I had cancelled all of my book talks in S. F., I cancelled my yoga retreat and all else. Roger, my Lake Tahoe son called several times and sent a beautiful bouquet (yes, on his way to Tahoe.) Norman my ex husband sent a room full of roses, Leslie called each day from Switzerland.

Passover and Easter passed and that Monday I was wheeled in. Eric came back to visit me in the trauma ward before they put me under. The operation was a success, I came out of it, but with increased pain. I had a private room, my Internet worked and so did my cell and I was a happy Hospital patient.

I was re-leased 2 days later, learning to shower, learning to take care of my self; I lucked out with my HMO, a great Dr. the best hospital and even pick up and delivery service from and to my new room.

So here I am in my new room, a whole week has already passed, a true sabbatical to heal and mend. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, just heal. No more broken elbow, no more homeless. It is a simple hotel room with a little refrigerator, a comfortable bed, wi fi, cell and a bath. There is staff and guest to talk to, visitors come and go.

I did fall, I did get up from the fall, and I did survive and I did it all by myself; except for brother Mark.

Carol Sue Gershman