It's Just...a Little Crush

Who had crush injury on their bingo card?

Not me!

And yet...

Yeah. 500+ pounds of sandstone on my hand.

Because reasons.

Actually because hubby.

Fact: Women only live longer than men if they aren't doing the stupid things the men come up with.

Amazingly, it's not too bad of an injury (so far at least). I was fortunate in that I was pinned on grass and not concrete and we got it off me very quickly.

This was definitely a wake-up call on safety for him and me both.

We do a lot of DIY. Hubby is incredibly strong and understands the physics of moving insanely heavy things. I am like a three-year-old. I'm helpful, but largely don't understand physics. I don't have the strength to develop any real expertise with that kind of work flow. Which makes me dangerous. If I had a clue, maybe I could've kept an eye on hubby and called him out before he dropped the lever without checking on my position.

So anyway. My hand is lightly crushed.

Crush injuries are kind of wild. You basically pop all your cells, and with major crush injuries, that can lead to serious kidney and electrolyte issues. Because your cell guts just splatter everywhere and the molecules are too large for the kidneys to process and you can actually die.

I seem to have avoided that party, but my adrenal glands are on fire enough to wake me from a dead sleep (for those who don't remember, this has happened before with adrenal insufficiency, my adrenal glands do, in fact, get super inflamed when they aren't 100% and also urine is clear so it's not any obvious kidney distress). I am guessing recent steroids for asthma plus high doses for contrast allergy have left me a bit depleted.

I don't think I was in shock. Maybe just a little? But my system seems to be a bit verklempt at the moment.

So I took 10 mg of prednisone. Hopefully that'll be enough and things will settle down.

And no. I did not go to the ER. If things get weirder than they already are, I'll consider it. But mostly I think it's just going to take time for it to heal. I don't think there's anything else to do.

And yep. This is my life. Sometimes I wonder if the universe regrets letting me live and is just  constantly trying to rectify its error...

The dozens tumors on your liver didn't get you? Not even when we made two hemorrhage and gave you a shitty surgeon? Fuck. You eat healthy? And exercise? You bitch!  Well, how about a cyst on your spine so you fall to your doom? No? Okay, we'll grow some cancer shit on your pancreas and slam a massive boulder on your hand? Did you die yet? How about now? God damn it. Die already! Now? 

I don't know. Maybe I'm actually a cockroach?