I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up!


The heel of my boot slipped. I fell slamming my shoulder on the hard wood floor. At that moment I heard a cracking noise and knew immediately I broke my arm.  Thoughts went whirling through my mind of the stupid thing I had done.  Then I said out loud. “God, make something good come out of this!” I knew my life was about to make a big change.


I laid there in pain, cradling my broken right arm.   I started to feel dizzy, then slowly the air around me started to engulf me with unbearable heat. I tore the silky scarf away that was wrapped around my neck, and one handedly unzipped my high-top boots tossing them out of my way. I wanted to take my velvet jacket off, but knew that was impossible.


Laying there reminded me of the commercial in the past that I had made fun of. “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”  Well, that commercial has a whole new meaning for me now. Learned my lesson; I won’t make fun of that commercial anymore. I had fallen, couldn’t get up and I was alone. I wished then, I had that thing they talk about hanging around my neck that I could push and miraculously someone would show up.


I tried to find a way to sit up, but got too dizzy.  So then I tried to relax hoping to fight off the sick feeling and knowing that relaxing can ease the pain. As I laid there I tried to figure out what I should do next. I felt better lying there, not moving, but I knew I couldn’t just stay there, I needed help.   Nauseated, I managed to crawl to the telephone in the kitchen. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to get myself up without letting go of my broken arm, then I leaned over and laid my broken arm on the counter. I called my neighbor Sheila with my left hand.  I knew Sheila was at home, because we had gone to church together, to the first service and I had dropped her off a few minutes before.  I just arrived at home, was heading to the bedroom to change from my church clothes when I fell.  I knew my husband would not answer his cell, because he was running the sound board at church and the second service had started. You don’t mess with the sound crew when church is in session.  He wouldn’t be home for another hour or who knows when, depending on what he had to do.  I tried to sit up on the floor bracing myself against the cupboards, wondering if I could get up and walk to the front door to let Sheila in.  I was still dizzy and nauseated just sitting there so I knew I had to crawl to the front door.


Sheila arrived with her husband, and found me lying on the floor, peaceful, calm, protecting and cradling my arm like it was my baby. As long as I didn’t move my fingers, wrist or any part of my arm or shoulder I was fine. If I tried to sit or get up I got dizzy and nauseated.


I asked Sheila to get my cell and text Doyle. She wanted to call him, but I told her he wouldn’t answer, that she should just text him. I tried to tell her how to text, but she said, “I don’t know how to text, just give me his cell number.”


I was shocked when she started to talk to Doyle.

“Doyle, this is Sheila, Naomi broke her arm. Do you want us to take her to the emergency?”

“Is there any blood or bones protruding?” Doyle calmly asked.

“No, she’s calm and fine as long as she is lying down.”

“Then no, I will get home as soon as I can.”

My calm engineering husband arrived soon after and it was before church was over, so I knew he had to find someone to take his place. That would not have been easy, especially while the service was still in session.


When he came in he knelt down beside me and asked me a bunch of questions and then I asked, “What made you answer your cell phone in church? I was certain you wouldn’t answer, actually I was shocked.”


He said, “I knew you wouldn’t call me unless it was an emergency. I knew you needed me.”

He was off in the other room, calling places to see which hospital to take me to. It wasn’t easy but with the help of the two men I was able to get up off the floor, out in the van and off to the hospital.

I wasn’t really thrilled about going to any hospital, but we discussed the two possibilities. Doyle favored one, because when he called he found out one place didn’t have a doctor on duty and the other one did.  I’m not much for hospitals or doctors, but when you need them, you hope you make the right choice.  I went in thinking I’m not sure of this place, praying, Lord, please let this NOT be a nightmare.


You may be thinking, Come on it’s just a broken arm, for Pete’s sake! I guess the bad experiences I’ve had with both of my parents, my sister and husband in hospitals has branded in my memory red flags whenever I enter a hospital. I knew that I was not in control and that I rested in God’s care.


Doyle got me in a wheelchair and up to the front desk, explaining to the receptionist that I had a broken arm. She asked for my name and insurance and replied,

“We are full, so it may be a while before we can get you in.”

Before Doyle moved me to a safe spot so he could go out and pack the van, a doctor came out and said,

“Naomi, do you remember me?”

I looked at him, he was a handsome young man who looked familiar, but I couldn’t come up with a name.

“I’m Jonathon Keary, from church.”

Wow, you wouldn’t believe the joy I received at that moment when I realized who he was.  I had just talked to his sister and mother that morning at church, they were sitting in the pew in front of me.  Needless to say Dr. Keary took very good care of me and I was in a room before Doyle came back from parking the van.


While I was in the emergency room waiting for the dizziness and nausea to subside Doyle was out in the hall asking for something, when he noticed a man in the room beside me. He was from our church also. Doyle asked him if he knew that Dr. Keary was from our church. He didn’t know that. So the neat thing was Dr. Keary was just walking by, so Doyle got to introduce them to each other. I’m sure he was also happy, like I was. What a blessing it was to have a doctor we knew, be on duty that day. A coincidence? I don’t think so. I just love God’s Gentle Whispers. He’s always around us, and what a blessing when we are able to hear Him sweetly whispering in our ear. “I am with you, I will never leave you or forsake you. If you look for Me, you will find me.”


Well, many of you wanted to know how I broke my arm, so now you know, but there is one BIG reason why I broke my arm. Vanity. It could have been avoided, it was a stupid thing to wear those boots, vain, vain, vain! They just made my outfit look perfect.  It was a new pair of boots and I had worn them two other times. Each time I slipped, but caught myself before I fell. I knew that I needed to take the boots to a shoe repair shop to get the smooth, plastic, shiny heal fixed.  The front part of the sole is skid prof, but the heal slips. That Sunday morning it was snowing and I wanted to wear the boots. It made my whole ensemble perfect. A velvet skirt, blouse and jacket, topping it off with a gorgeous hat, covering a bad hair day.  I took a final look in the mirror and though, I really shouldn’t wear these boots, but I will be very careful today, and I will make sure I take them to the repair shop before I wear them again. 

Guess what? Those boots WILL GO to the repair shop before I wear them again! That is, as soon as I can drive!


How can any good come from a broken arm?  Rest, relaxation, a two week vacation, mostly in sunny Florida with family.  Lots of quiet time hearing little whispers about humility, realizing that going natural was really ok, because dolling myself up with one hand was impossible. A bad hair day has become the norm and a perfect outfit is out of the question, with a sling wrapped around my body and neck.  But the one thing I treasured most was the love from my dear husband laying silently beside me, gently rubbing my broken arm.  It was like God was reminding me, “My healing hand is upon you, Naomi”.


I wonder how life would be if our bodies didn’t heal when they have something broken. Did you ever think of that?  Never healing! I thought of that often these past weeks.  I have become more thankful, more grateful for my great physician, reminding me of God’s great healing power.

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