Broken Arms Suck
Last Saturday I went out on my first bicycle ride of the year and came oh-so-close to surviving it. I covered over 10 miles in under an hour and then ended up getting dumped hard onto the street.
Fearing I had broken something, the first thing I did was sign up on my healty insurance provider’s website (which would have been easier if the link in their welcome letter was a working URL). I was sure that my right arm was broken near the elbow when the pain made it impossible to use a mouse.
After registering on the site (and being given a “how did this site work for you” survey on the 2nd page I visited, before the site had done anything other than tell me that Blue Cross Blue Shield sent me a broken link in my welcome letter), I tried in vain to find some helpful information before giving up and calling the “get answers to your health questions” number. That wasn’t really any help. I had 2 questions (”why is the link wrong in the welcome letter” and “should I go to urgent care or ER”) and her answer to both was “I think that is a Customer Service issue.” I would have called Customer Service but she didn’t have a number for them so I caught a ride to the closest Urgent Care right after buying and setting up the recording of the UFC PPV that was starting in 2 1/2 hours, just in case I wasn’t back in time.
The woman working the desk at the urgent care center told me they could X-Ray my arm but not put a cast on it and sent me to a different urgent care a couple blocks away. After walking several blocks to get there, they were closed (they close at 2 on Saturdays, completely redefining the word “urgent”). From there, I walked to the ER, still sporting the ghetto shirt-sling that made the trek possible.
2 hours later, I left the ER after being X-Rayed but not given a cast. I was given a referral for a doctor on Monday for a cast. I should have just stayed at the urgent care. And I should have just kept my shirt-sling. The ER was out of human-sized slings and gave me one that was too large to be of any use to me.
Luckily for me, the break is one that needs movement so I didn’t get a cast Monday. Which means I can still type and I won’t have to cancel my tattoo appointment next Monday (right after my first physical therapy session). But, maybe best of all, no cast means a lot fewer people make me explain to them what happened.
Tags: sirshannon