An hour before the Packers-Vikings game a couple weeks ago, carrying a load of laundry, I slip and take a loud and nasty fall down our basement stairs. Groaning and crawling around at the bottom, I hold my shoulder, my forearm, my wrist. My wife Sarah comes rushing down in a panic: “Do you think you broke anything?” Well, the laundry basket is cracked and busted in several places, but I can wiggle my fingers. Disaster averted.

I stagger upstairs to take it easy. Sarah asks if we should go to Urgent Care. “I’m fine,” I say. I’ve been looking forward to the big game all week: our losing streak versus the Vikings’ winning streak, the division lead and bragging rights on the line, half-time chili at my brother’s house.

Yet, the pain wasn’t fading; it was getting worse. Watching me wince a few times too many, Sarah says, “You have to go in and get this checked – they’ll have TVs there.”

We catch some of the radio pre-game in the van on the way to the hospital, and we’re in the waiting room when the nationally televised broadcast begins. My day continues to be cursed: Troy Aikman and Joe Buck are announcing the game. They claim to be neutral, but everything they say – everything – drips with a smug, anti-Packer tone. Can this get any worse?

I’ve been looking forward to the big game all week: our losing streak versus the Vikings’ winning streak, the division lead and bragging rights on the line, half-time chili at my brother’s house. Yet, the pain wasn’t fading; it was getting worse. Watching me wince a few times too many, Sarah says, “You have to go in and get this checked – they’ll have TVs there.”

Yes it can. A few plays into the game, the nurse calls my name, and I’m forced to go to a TV-less room for blood pressure and other screenings. Then, due to remodeling construction work, I have to walk down about 20 miles of hallways to get to my holding room. At least it has a television, and the Packers have somehow worked their way to a 6-3 lead. After our previous three losses, I feared much worse. Things are looking up.

What I thought was now a stable game-watching experience is interrupted by a rotating cast of medical personnel with questions and suggestions. When the physician’s assistant who’s been assigned to my arm finally comes in, she’s wearing a Vikings jersey. Despite our clashing shirts, we work together to move my arm as the muted game continues without us. She bends my arm and lifts it – AAAAAHHHHHG!

“We’re definitely going to need X-rays,” she says.

Finally, at the end of halftime we go to the X-ray room, where there are no TVs.  I can’t catch a break here, but the X-rays show that I did fracture my forearm. A splint and a sling later, I’m in the van with uninterrupted radio coverage. All is well – except when we go through the Walgreens drive-thru for prescription painkillers. Every time the lab coat pharmacist is talking to us through the speaker, I have to turn the game off. For all I know, he and his coworkers were huddled around the radio, exasperated to see our van pull up. But we can all shake off the minor interruptions when the Packers are dominating the game like they are right now.

Finally, I’m parked comfortably in front of the TV at home, where Sarah says we have to get my elbow elevated. Stuffing pillows under my arm, she says, “Lift your arm up, a little higher, here–”       

“AAAAAHHHHHG!”

And what a catch by James Jones for another Packers first down! Even Aikman and Buck hop on the bandwagon as the Packers go on to win 33-14 and take over first place. I raise my one good arm in triumph.

~

Four nights later, I’m sitting on the couch in my sling, watching the Packers battle the Bears in a Thanksgiving showdown. At halftime, they unveil Brett Favre’s name and number on the stadium’s Ring of Fame. Favre’s dalliance with the Vikings fractured the Packer fan base like no other event in team history, and now here he is, basking in their roaring applause.

Commentators use the cliché: “Time heals all wounds.” That looks like the case here. But in the second half, the Packers bumble their way to another loss – which hands the division lead back to the Vikings. This was supposed to be a time of healing. But we’ve lost four of our last six games, we’ve got 14 players on the injury report (at press time), and the darkest days of the year are approaching.

Feels like I’m due for more ibuprofen – this is really starting to hurt. At this point, heading into Detroit, it’s going to take a miracle cure. Anybody know a guy?