Welcome to the Walking Wounded Club

My strong, athletic husband is temporarily on the disabled list. On November 13, while riding on a downslope of the Ballona Creek bike path and gaining speed, he collided with another biker who was riding uphill toward him. Jeff fell very hard and doesn’t remember exactly what happened. He only recalls finding himself on the ground, stunned, and hearing the voice of another biker standing over him and cautioning, “Don’t move. You have a dislocated shoulder.”

By the end of that day X-rays showed that Jeff’s shoulder wasn’t dislocated but completely separated from its ligaments. He also had two fractured ribs. His pain was excruciating; I drove us home slowly with the hazard lights on, avoiding the slightest bumps on the road. We both had a rude visual awakening seeing his clavicle bone protruding up between his neck and shoulder bone. Separation indeed. 

Upon hearing of his accident, friends and relatives kindly offered prayers, gifts, and a Shabbat meal. They visited and called. One friend even brought matjes herring, no doubt for its extraordinary medicinal properties. We’ve been given the phone numbers of orthopedic surgeons reported to be the best. Because when it comes to Jews and doctors, we only want the best.

It’s incredible how many people —including strangers — have felt an intense need to comfort Jeff by sharing their own war stories. 

It’s incredible how many people — including strangers — have felt an intense need to comfort Jeff by sharing their own war stories. I can’t tell you how often someone will see his right arm secured in that sling and tucked under his sweater and begin to ask him what happened. But he can get no further than the preamble: “I was riding my bike down on the Ballona Creek path. . .” when they interrupt:  

“Oh my God, let me tell you what happened when I slipped and fell on Wilshire Boulevard. Did you know I was in a wheelchair for six weeks?”

“Oh really? Did you know I was almost impaled on the handlebars of my bike when a reckless kid on an electric scooter slammed into me? It’s a miracle I’m still alive!”

“Yeah, I fell off my bike a few years ago. Fractured my jaw and needed dental implants. See this? I still can’t open my mouth that wide.” 

“Have you started physical therapy yet? Didja know that ‘PT’ really stands for ‘pain and torture?’ Those therapists know their stuff but they are tough. I went three times a week for four months and it really killed.” 

In the five weeks since the accident, we have heard more alarming sagas of torn ligaments, broken ankles, ACL tears, rotator cuff injuries, stress fractures, frozen shoulders, concussions, traumatic hernias, and complications from surgeries than we had ever heard in our lives. We are dazed and fearful of leaving the house. We are considering early-onset grab bars for the shower.  

As soon as Jeff inadvertently joined the Walking Wounded Club, we focused on being grateful that the injuries weren’t worse. For example, he fell on his right side, allowing him full use of his favored hand. He can write, text, eat, and manage several other tasks on his own. This means he can still work from home, which ensures not just his sanity, but mine, too. Because he never rides without his helmet on, he had no concussion, thank God. He was riding with a friend who helped him get to an urgent care center right away. He has an in-home nurse (me!) to take care of him, take him to doctor appointments, and keep the ice packs coming and the pain meds well stocked. I feed him well, too.

Our daily prayers and general awareness of God’s presence in our lives help us feel gratitude about what went right in an otherwise bad situation. And day by day we appreciate the miracle of how the body heals itself. 

Accidents happen in a split second, but healing takes time, patience, and a positive attitude. It also helps if you are willing to hear about other people’s injuries and their pain, and can tolerate major infusions of matjes herring. As they like to say these days, stay safe out there.

Judy Gruen’s latest book is “The Skeptic and the Rabbi: Falling in Love with Faith.”