How My Wrist Was Broken (3 Versions)

First Version: Nobility Restrained

I was helping an old man cross the street in the middle of a tornadic thunderstorm with winds impacting at sixty-nine mph. His vision was impaired and he misjudged the step from off the curb. As he tilted over, I held on to both of his arms to break a fall. It was too late. The flooding wind-forced waters pulled him toward the street drain and his boney hands began to slip out of my grip. I was horrified because I lost control. The wind was pulling me down with him and all I could see was a tiny man being swallowed into the street hole with only head exposed ... his pruney face in wide-eyed terror!
Suddenly, in less than a second, I began to slide toward the opening, nearly going down with him. But I braced my straddling legs, propping one on each side of the drain while holding onto only one hand. The man's right arm changed from mine to grab my ankle. With double force, he strained and I reached for his elbow, both of us pulling with all our might until he was sucked outward. He squeezed through the opening and fell full force to my left side. The airstream thrusted our bodies parallel blocking the drain. I nearly fainted as the wind picked us up into the air and dropped us in the concrete whipping my hand sideways full force.

We were rescued by fire fighters and both taken by ambulances to the hospital. The old man suffered a mild heart attack and I had a double fracture in my wrist.

Later, the local and national news reported the incident and proclaimed me a heroine whose life was compromised to save his!

Second Version: Self-crediting With hints of mild narcissism

It was after a winter ice storm that I finally decided that with all my talents, I could once again hit the ice. It had been years because I was giving so much time to domestic matters. My sleep yielded a dream that prompted to make it the first thing I do the next morning.

I said a quick prayer of thanks when I saw the sun peak around the last of the snow clouds causing me to spring out of my bed and fiendishly jump into a few layers of winter wear. I even color coordinated with a lipstick red scarf, hat, and white mittens. Looking into the mirror, I liked what I saw and hurriedly headed out the door, my 1972 white skates hung over my left shoulder.

Driving down the quiet path to the lake, I saw others running toward the ominous circle of skaters, gliding in and out with a backdrop of skating music. It took me a little longer to put the skates on, squeezing my size larger feet into the leather uppers.
"This is so worth it," I thought, in spite of the pulsing throb in my toes. Then, forgetting how long it had been for me, my visions of grandeur overruled precaution. I ran to successfully jump onto the ice, throwing my arms up into the icy air embracing the joy.

I was so proud of myself that I decided to do a figure 8, first rushing forward, voraciously changing in reverse completing what would be the best foot cutting I ever did as others watched. It was so glorious, I decided to give them the show of a lifetime with a waltz jump, but once I cut over the other foot, I slid too close to the side rail and bumped into the light pole behind it. It was full impact when I not only bumped between the rail and the light like a pin ball, I swirled to the left and tripped over my own foot pushing me full force back on the ice. I stopped breathing for a second, scared to death I was dying.

Last thing I remember was someone calling 911. I found myself in the ER surrounded by some of the skaters whose shirts read "Rockefellar Center Ice Dancers".
I did not pass out from the agonizing pain. I was mortified and filled with the dread of a broken ego.

Third Version: Last of the Luggage Ladder

There was a tornado warning blasting from our weather radio while the weather channel was prompting us to prepare for the worst. Otherwise, all was cozy and quiet as our grandchild was going to sleep. But I have always worked miracles under pressure and decided to hang a new curtain over her closet. The stool was too short, so I found a suitcase and placed the stool on TOP. I was confident that I could hang the new curtain when suddenly, I heard a popping sound, then a knocking noise.
" Uh oh," I thought. "Hubby would flip if he saw me do this now!"
I even recited my favorite scripture so that I could accomplish what seemed impossible.
" I can do all things through Chirst who strengthens me". Yeh. That'll do it. My grandchild was scared. "Careful, Nanah." But long as I was exampling the faith of Christ, how could I go wrong? After all, I've used it many times before. It's been well exampled and witnessed. It was a keeper. I don't want to call it 'magic', but it seemed to describe its quick results

Too bad. Forgot about human will and obstinance as the warning for me to get down was probably His prompt. I slid full force off the stool that was tumbling off the suitcase and fell like an iron grate sideways. I knew something was wrong and my husband ran in terror toward the bedroom
"I'm all right!" I assured him, confirming that I wasn't dead. But I was not okay.  I lost my breath, my head was swimming and thought I was going to pass out. My wrist was in horrific pain and it was knotted up. I was seeing black around me and nearly fainted. My husband couldn't help ask 'why' I would do such a thing, putting myself in danger. We had to go to ER in the middle of a horrible thunderstorm, street lights and utility wires falling behind us like vines from the sky.
Once at the ER, we were cautioned to go to the hallway where a tornado was confirmed to have touched down. It wasn't long, however, before they took an x-ray to diagnose two fractures and a dislocation, making me a temporary tape cast.

I cried when I got home, wishing I could have spent the last two hours in bed instead of having this injury. Next time, I recite a scripture like that, I will make sure I'm not standing on luggage. I'd travel better!

Sixty's Teen Gets the Gigs!

       Terese Grotius McKannan, long-time veteran musician and singer has it better than some these days when it comes to landing music jobs. At a time when there is so much hype on competition, television contests, getting a record deal, or even regularly working in one's hometown, she is in high demand within the senior communities.
     As a teenager who grew up in the 60's, she was highly influenced by her mother, Najla Macksoud Grotius, who was a singer and pianist for one of USO's first '40's entertaining groups during WW2 while professor-father and drama director Robert Grotius  encouraged them to put a little theatre into the act.  Terese and the other five Grotius siblings rehearsed with their mother's instrumental backup, tight harmonies, and snappy delivery which also launched their professional music careers.

       Terese began her own career in high school and gradually expanded  her repertoire till she was booked in popular piano bars. With her lively presentation and remarkable ability to engage audiences with familiar TV show themes and commercials, she kept the night clubbers awake as they asked for more. Before long, she was working the plush hotels, piano bars, clubs, and restaurants, both locally and across the states while moonlighting. Though between the traveling gigs she took a few brief jobs in the mainstream work force, she always came back to playing music.

        Now getting older has its perks as there will always be the elders whose needs include more than good health care. They need to be entertained, wooed by the sounds of their time, emotionally taking them away from the mundane and melancholy. Terese decided to give back to our parents' generation by dedicating a 45 minute program to a few nursing facilities. They loved her! With letters of introduction to many more senior venues, some photographs and a resume of her musical career, calls began to roll in. It wasn't long before she nearly had more than she could handle. But she was happy. Happy because she was doing something she always knew and loved and could do it full time while care-giving her own mother.
       She delivers a punchy medley of national and state anthems. Among them are:
God Bless America, Back Home Again In Indiana, California Here I Come,Georgia, and many others.  She also performs show tunes like Cabaret, Hello Dolly, and Moulin Rouge. The best of the Beatles also roused the memories of those who raised their own children of the 60's making it easy to smile, cry, and sing along. The icing on the cake is the love and endearment she has with the residents who attend her programs.
     "I become very close to many of these wonderful people," Terese reports . "I've spoken with some notables as well. Like Bettie Engelbrecht, whose dance team performed with Debbie Reynolds in the movie, Singing In The Rain. And Marilyn Durham, author of  The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing."  Terese was honored.  She tears up when telling about her chat with haulicost survivor Veronika Federowska Samila who jumped off a train while in transit toward Auschwitz to escape her eventual brief encampment. (Compassionate as well,  Terese makes a point to see their extended families whenever a resident passes away.)
      She  lives in Evansville and and serves nearly all local facilties, and more  frequently  at Newburgh Healthcare,The Heritage,  The Protestant Home, and others.
       If you want to hear a few sound clips, I'm afraid she's old fashioned, doesn't mess with the computer and needs me to speak on her behalf since she's my sister! Terese would like to invite anyone to come to one of her events. To request a list of upcoming gigs,  you can email me directly: czeal@hotmail.com  Subject: (RantingsFromRiverBayBlog)