Oop goes the arm (#SoCS)

OpenStax diagram of deep and superficial veins of the human arm.
OpenStax image available here1.

This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday blog hop. Linda Hill posts a prompt every Friday; this week’s prompt is, “oop.” Find a word with the “oop” sound in it and use it in your post. 

Ya know, people shouldn’t provide this kind of a writing prompt to someone with the sense of humor of a 12-year-old boy. I’m so tempted to craft a five-paragraph essay about poop. Or maybe a haiku. But I will restrain myself and play around with some other “oop” words. A few of them apply to this week:

coop – I’ve been cooped up in the house more than usual this week, because something went wrong with my dominant arm, causing me crazy amounts of pain.

goop – Said arm ended up covered in goopy gel at the ER Thursday night, while the ultrasound tech imaged my veins.

hoops – An homage to the American health care system. I wasn’t in danger of imminent death, but I got sent to the ER anyway. Why? Because the imaging place never got the referral my primary care doc sent them, and when I was finally able to book an appointment for the ultrasound, it was too far out. Apparently when doctors want to rule out blood clots, they want to do that quickly. But our delightful health care system makes you go through a lot of hoops to do that (and note that I have really good insurance–and I still had to go to an ER to get prompt treatment–sigh).

loops – Also known as voicemail hell while trying to contact the ultrasound place while unable to use my right arm. I really need to learn how to use speech to text and Siri.

poop (you knew I’d get there eventually) – A much more polite version of the word I’ve used multiple times per day since Tuesday night, e.g. when I:

  • Tried to move my arm.
  • Tried to schedule a doctor’s appointment.
  • Tried to move my arm.
  • Tried to schedule an ultrasound.
  • Tried to move my arm.
  • Got sent to the ER.
  • Tried to move arm.
  • Sat up half the night, because my arm hurt too much to let me sleep.
  • Tried to move my arm.
  • Puked from painkillers (which was still less miserable than trying to move my arm)
  • And, in case I forgot to mention it: tried to move my arm.

I’m happy to report that I can now move my arm (very carefully, and not without pain), and I can even type. So look out, internet–I’m baaaacccckkk.

I hope y’all had a better week than I did. And love, respect, and appreciate your arms, people. It’s no fun when they stop working.


  1. Image from OpenStax College, CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0, via Wikimedia Commons