Monday, September 15, 2008


I can't produce inspiring room makeovers right now. No new paintings or finished projects. My upcoming FLIGHTS OF FANCY fabrics are still nesting at the mill. Can't even photograph a frozen dinner, okay? But I've got STORIES! You know, the kind of stories that make life a little juicier; more interesting. My recent mishap has added a few such tales. Since I lean towards the artistic and visually creative slant, just think of these as word pictures.

The day of the "mishap" we started out very happy to have that grueling NYIGF behind us and the anticipation of a fun filled day to ourselves. I got "dolled up" before we took off; cute outfit, hair lookin good, etc. knowing after a day of exploring NYC we would come back to the hotel in enough time to change for dinner and on to the "Mama Mia" musical.

Good thing, cuz by 4 pm I was being wheeled out of the NY hospital in a hospital gown and a makeshift splint. Not so cute now. I was propped up until we could catch a flight out the next eve. Tim carefully planned the exit. He ordered a Town car ride to the airport since we were certain a cab ride would have just ripped my dangling arm right off. Then he secured wheelchairs for both flights. Yeah, both flights. Our airline had us fly from NY down to Atlanta, then change planes and fly up to Indianapolis. It was exhausting. People staring at me in a hospital gown and wheelchair, disheveled and holding my own left arm together with my right arm.

So, as we make the final flight into Indianapolis, even though we paid extra to sit in the front seats to be the first off the plane, a rather, no, really large woman swiped right passed me to get out of the plane ahead of me. I'm like, "Oh well, she must have a connecting flight". I hobble off onto the jet bridge. There's the wheelchair. The large lady and I both eyeball it. I'm thinking it's obviously mine...ya know, hospital gown, arm in splint. Nope. She plops down and her friend takes off with her. Immediate thought? SMACK, SLAP. I don't act on my feelings on a good day; and on a bad day, my slap arm is broken! All I know is everyone steered clear of me down that bridge.

The next arm related story is when I finally got to the medical center in Indy. Jennifer and my Mia (3 1/2 yr. old grand-princess) were my escorts. Now in the care of the same specialists that treat the Colts, the Pacers, and everyone in between, I was in good hands. Not knowing what procedures were coming my way I took a pain pill before I left. I had packed a banana, some peanut butter and crackers, bottled water and extra pain pills just in case. The splint must come off, as it actually was keeping my bones apart. I had 2 people working to get my splint off, another set of x rays, realign and set my arm. Not pleasant, hence another pain pill. At one point I was asked if I was doing okay and needed anything to eat or drink. I tried to refocus on the need to do something other than do the pain. Just as I was about to agree to food, I open my grimacing eyes to see Jennifer, as white as a sheet, sitting down and eating my banana, while Mia ate my crackers and drank my water. Then Mia didn't want to throw her trash in the can because "there's a dead arm in there".

So after they hauled me off for more fun things and put me in another room, the one lady that was with me from the beginning came back. By then I'm sitting on the table, eyes closed, trying to breathe evenly and get the blood back to all my parts. The lady is at the side of the table I'm sitting on and I hear her say, "Where are you"? Thinking she's worried that I'm lightheaded and testing me, I confidently declare, "I'm right here in Carmel (IN)". She then asks something about California. I'm sure she's messing with me. I declare,"No, I fell in NYC, but I flew back here", (Carmel, IN, not Carmel California). I open my eyes and glance over at her as she asks another question. This time she points to her ear, waves her arm as she's walking out of the room. Oh my gosh, she's talking to someone else from an earphone...not me!!! I start laughing. OUCH! I can't stop laughing. I'm in a room by myself laughing until I almost cried. Vaguely wondered if I would be laughing this hard without the meds. Later she came back in to the room to go over some bla, bla. I finally interrupt her. "Did you not think that was funny"? She burst my bubble when she said it happens all the time.


  1. OH man, Paula! You're still incapacitated?? eeeek! So sorry to hear that. I sure am enjoying your stories, though. Glad you can keep your sense of humor. :) Let me know if you wanna chat! I'm here!!! And anything I can help ya with from a distance, just give me a shout. :) GET BETTER SOON!!!

  2. Paula..I'm a friend of Cheri S...I love your blog and am praying for quick healing of your arm. Your stories are very then;0) blessings,

  3. Oh Paula, did you ever get the wheelchair at the airport? Poor thing.Why do things like this always happen when you have the best things planned? Dinner and a show in NYC! I'm praying for your speedy recovery.

  4. Oh i hope you are ok. How's the arm??? THe dead arm in the trash can cracked me up!!! It had my husband in tears!

  5. Oh dear! I so much hate rude.
    I pray you will soon feel better. Meanwhile, laugh and be a Queen.

  6. So sorry to hear about your arm-an artists worst nightmare! ugh! Maybe you should indulge in some steamy romance novel reading to cheer yourself up! Hang in there!

  7. That is funny! Keep that sense of humor - I have a feeling you are going to need it as you continue to heal!

  8. Wow! I haven't had time to visit any blogs in a while and I'm now catching up. I'm so sorry about your ordeal!!



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