Bummerrewski!

Can physical impairment suffice for lack of existential drama?

Rigged up with my new German mate Luggi, that’s Ozzi-talk for “Ludwig”, went out to a) train and get back in shape after scallop episode b) take advantage of gorgeous summer sea breeze on Sydney Harbour. Was enjoying an awesome “downhill ride” – sailing with the wind, spinnaker up, me hanging off the trap wire out the back, boat leaping out the water we were flying! – off a huge wave and BANG!

Like a gunshot the boom vang blew… a very important line that keeps the boat under control in big breeze… and with no time to think the bow of the boat dug into the waves and we were launched through the air, me flying over Luggi and landing 200% on top my bicep across the wire holding up the mast. I meant to hit the sail, but, whoops, missed. “Are you ok?!” almost instantaneously a red line burned through my rashie. “Yeah, I’m good!” Swam around the boat to pull myself up and YOW!! That don’t feel good… left arm out of commission, and still had to sail a K back to the yacht club. We switch and I skipper the upwind track home, Luggi adding, “I hope it isn’t broken.” Suddenly my mind floods with hospital bills, do I even have insurance? Will I be able to sail next week, Miami?? Ride my bike?! Thank god I got a salsa dance in last night.

I can still wiggle my fingers and bend my arm (even though it might hurt like a @#*&%$! to do so). Pile o’ ice and a few Bundy dark and stormy’s – feeling HEAPS better, even if I look a bit T-Rex with my arm gimpishly pasted to my side.