FOOSH!

Tuesday was a bright, clear and frosty morning.  I set off to work on my bike, really enjoying seeing the sun rise.  All good so far.  It was just above zero degrees at home and no evidence of any ice.

Trundling along Lee Lane from Romsey, it happened.  Very suddenly - doof - I was over on the road, landing on my left wrist and right knee (and I still don't know how that's possible).  17 mph (give or take) to zero, just like that.  I groaned a bit, got up, saw no blood and had a look at the bike.  The chain had come off and the left brake lever was all bent but otherwise no major damage; a bit of bruising to follow, for sure.  A cyclist 50m ahead stopped and called over his shoulder 'I know what it's like, mate - the same thing happened to me at home 10 minutes ago.. you all right?' 'Yes' I replied, and off he went.  I like to think I'd show a touch more concern if a fellow cyclist came a cropper.

I got back on the bike, taking things very carefully.  My left hand felt a bit immobile and puffy but wasn't in a bad way.  As I approached the turn off Lee Lane I slowed right down... carefully does it... beware of the ice... and then a second whump on to the tarmac; same wrist but this time the left knee.  I cursed my stupidity and at this point reckoned it might be wiser to walk the rest of the way.

In the changing room my knees got admiring looks.  In the office, a couple of people suggested I get my wrist looked at as it got more swollen.  I was feeling a touch wobbly at this stage. Sue drove over and took me to Royal South Hants hospital's minor injuries unit.

A wait to see the triage nurse, then the duty nurse, then an x-ray, then the nurse again who confirmed that I had a broken wrist, and specifically a distal radius fracture, which is, I've learned, the classic result of a FOOSH, or fall on out-stretched hand.  The break in the x-ray was subtle to say the least; almost disappointing, I thought.  It must be a hairline crack.

I got a whopping big clunky cast which went right up to my finger tips, and a sling, which made me look like a right pillock.

The next day Sue (bless her) took me to the fracture clinic at Southampton General.  Lots more waiting.  Then an orthopaedic registrar and consultant studied the x-ray and told me that:

• there are at least two and possibly three breaks at the top of the radius
• it's worse than it looks
• it could turn 'catastrophic', with fragments of bone compromising the whole joint
• operating is an option, but the probability of success is not particularly high
• it needs close observation

Here's the x-ray (well, a picture of the screen in the doc's consulting room, not great quality) with crack lines drawn in very professionally by me for emphasis:

Three lines on my wrist

Sobering words.  This means I have to be an exceptionally good patient, and I'm not allowed to do anything particularly interesting or exciting for a while.  Specifically, no Romsey 5 next week, no final cross-country league race and therefore no placing this year (very irritating) and no Grizzly (ditto).  I should be out of plaster by the end of Feb, but the wisdom of running one of the most challenging and thrillingly gutsy courses around a week later just doesn't stack up.

It's not all bad.  My right arm is working fine, I'm not in pain (my knees are very sore at the moment, but they're only flesh wounds) and I'm feeling well.  Chris from work has promised to dig his turbo trainer out of his garage so I may be getting some aerobic exercise before too long.

I'm very lucky to have such a supportive and lovely wife who is helping keeping me in check and uncomplainingly taking on all the extra driving, washing up etc etc.  The lesson from this is not to cycle when there's any hint of frost - I really love cycling to work but I really don't want to be doing this again.

Next stop - the RR10 league which begins in April.  I'll be back.