About 7 weeks ago, I had a close encounter with concrete resulting in a broken scaphoid and two sprained wrists. Not the best career move when you’re trying to get in the operating room as often as you can. It all started back in July when, as a five year anniversary gift, my wife finally gave in to getting me a mountain bike (many I told you so’s to come).

Of course, after I had been riding for a couple of months, I started getting a little too confident. I often enjoy riding along the Mississippi river from Mud Island down to the Memphis-Arkansas bridge.  Going approximately 20-25 mph downhill around a blind curve, there was a patch of unlevel concrete I hit while turning. The concrete grabbed my front tire, turning it completely perpendicular and catapulting me over the handlebars. Don’t worry the bike was okay and I was wearing a helmet. However, the brunt of the fall was absorbed on outstretched hands. I immediately knew I had done more damage than just a sprain.  It was a painful 2 mile return the house at a snails pace.

Fast-forward 7 weeks, four of which were spent in a thumb spica cast, and things are 90% back to normal and I’m back in the O.R. doing what I love. The ironic part is that approximately 6 hours prior to the accident, one of the attending surgeons gave a grand rounds on finances and talked about the importance of disability insurance. I still haven’t gotten back on the saddle yet, but probably will soon. The ‘ol Cannondale is hanging in the garage waiting to get back on the trails.