There IS a God

I have incredible bones.  I think it has something to do with the fact that I sometimes eat cereal twice a day.  Some credit is probably due to the bone stimulator that I've been using religiously...but I think it's mostly my freakishly iguana-like bones (and the milk in my cereal of course).

The nurse busted out the super scary saw again.  It really wasn't scary at all this time, but it still looks kinda intimidating. Her first comment was "Nice tan line."  Cause it is pretty NIIIICE. 



Not only do I have a tan line, but I am literally MOLTING.  Yes, molting.  Like a snake.  This didn't happen instantly, but over the past few hours, every inch of skin on my hand has started to peel off.  It's quite the distraction really.  I'm having trouble getting much work done because of it.  If you ever need a serious skin exfoliant, just break a bone.  Trust me, it will work.  Ew, and here's something that is a huge mystery to me- the hair on my arm turned black.  Jet black hair on a ghostly white arm.  It's really unattractive.  I hope no one is eating while reading this...if anyone is even reading this at all...

After the saw came the fun x-rays. The first 2 were easy- just sit there and take a picture of your bones.  The 3rd one, though- ouch.  I had to bend my wrist outward so they could get a picture of my messed up bone.  It was so painful.  I knew right then and there that the cast was going right back on.  Well, this is the first thing that I have actually been HAPPY to be wrong about.

Dr. Heyman: "Well that's weird.  You healed really fast. I can't even make out the break.  You want a soft cast now?"
Me: "Is that even a question?"
Dr. Heyman: "Well, yes it is."


I told you guys he was awkward.


Now, when he says healed, he means that I healed enough to wear a splint instead of a stupid awful ugly cast.  I still can't exactly move my wrist much, but my range of motion is supposed to come back with time.  I guess the pain I had during the x-ray was just from my wrist basically getting stuck in place. As long as it's not broken anymore, I don't care why it hurts.  Anyways, people- I no longer have a fiberglass arm.  It's glorious.  Weird, but glorious.  Thank you, oh thank you Baby Jesus!  I'm so happy, that I might just sing the University of Memphis fight song right now....just sang it.  I hope all you Tigers fans sing it today too- it's a fun one to sing regardless of what you are celebrating.

I know the few of you who actually read this are sad to know the blog is probably coming to an end.  I will post a few more to outline how my wrist is progressing now that it is back in the sun, but those will be few and far between....

On second thought...maybe I'll just continue this blog as a means to complain about other random things that bother me.  Yep, I think I'll do that.  I'm really good at being negative and complaining about things that don't bother anyone but me, so I should be able to come up with a decent amount of content.


Countdown to tentative cast removal: 72 days down.  0 to go.  Now, that's one big fat zero.

Thursday

Today is Thursday.  And tomorrow is Friday. Soon it will be next Tuesday.  Ah, next Tuesday. It could be either the first day of the rest of my life...or it could be the 1st day of the next 6 weeks.  Dear Lord, please let Dr. Heyman cut this stupid thing off me and give me a splint for the next 6 weeks.  I sure would love to take a shower without a bag on my arm.

I was sure things were looking up- a few days ago, my wrist was feeling great.  I thought that it couldn't feel this good unless it was healed.  I started thinking that maybe, JUST MAYBE, my next set of x-rays would say I was fixed!  Then last night, I tried to pick up my dinner plate, and I felt a shooting pain through my arm.  Ouch. ouch ouch ouch.  I think that means I'm still injured. 

Countdown to tentative cast removal: 37 days down, 47 to go.  Almost halfway.

The Gimp Travels

I went to Vegas this weekend for a much needed "vacation".  Vacation is in quotations because it involved no relaxing at all, and I now need another one recover.  Anyhow, it was tons of fun, so the recovery is worth it.

Part one of the cast adventure started at the airport.  I'm usually extremely discombobulated when it comes to airport security.  I always forget to take my laptop out or put something in a plastic bag or get undressed completely, so I dread this part of traveling.  Well, Friday, I was prepared and in an extremely good mood.  So I wore slip-on shoes, no belt, and made sure all my liquids were LESS than 3 ounces.  My ID was easily accessible in my back pocket, and both my bags fit in the x-ray machine.  Yes, I have been rejected from security before because my bag wouldn't fit...it's embarrassing.  Needless to say, my stupid broken wrist was the last thing on my mind.

Leave it up to airport security to make sure I didn't forget that I am handicapped.  After walking through the metal detector, they pulled me aside.  I figured they would examine my cast, see that it was signed by a bunch of 15 year olds (and one 35 year old), and let me be on my merry way.  Nope.  First they swabbed by whole arm with those round white pieces of paper that are supposed to detect bomb residue.  I don't believe they do anything at all in the first place, but I went with it.  No big deal.  I was now going to be released, right?  Wrong again.  They then brought me into the back of security in a private room.  Visions of a cavity search instantly flashed before my eyes.  I nervously said, "Wow, you guys really don't like people with broken limbs, huh?"  The woman just blankly looked back at me and said "Well, MA'M, people from other countries try to smuggle weapons in their casts, so we take it very seriously. Just be happy you aren't in a full body cast."  Oops.  Shouldn't have said that.  But thanks for putting my injury into perspective, TSA lady. I remember the shoe bomber dude, but I don't recall anyone ever smuggling weapons on a plane with a cast...whatever.  Luckily, there was no cavity search.  She did, however, do 3 full x-rays of my arm and examined them all very closely.  I was tempted to ask her for a copy of them to take to my next doctor's appointment.  I've decided I will just buy a cheap flight every 3 weeks for the next few months and get my x-rays done that way.  It's probably cheaper than the ones at the doctor's office.

So I made it through security in one piece.  I will vow that from now on, I will not complain about taking the bobby pins out of my hair before I enter security.  It could always be worse.  I just can't wait until I get to do this at the Memphis Airport next week-those idiots are the WORST.

I am not a slot machine person.  My grandmother taught me well- slot machines will just suck away your money.  I do, however, love the tables (another lesson from Granny).  Dealers are generally great, friendly people, but every SINGLE dealer asked about my cast.  I guess it's a natural question to ask when making conversation, but it did get annoying.  Give it a rest, people.  One dealer (her name was Linda, and she looked like she has dyed her hair and smoked for the last 250 years) said "What do you wear that for?"  I was confused.  What do people in casts usually wear a cast for?  I thought that was common knowledge...so I responded "Oh, this is part of my outfit.  It's all the rage these days."  Then she took my money.  She tried to make it seem like it was the fault of the cards, but I think she was trying to get back at me for being a smart ass again.  I'm starting to understand why someone signed my cast "pompa inteligente" (Spanish for "smart ass")

Lady at the Harrah's cash out area: "What'd you do?  Punch a boy in the face?"
Me: "Actually, yes."
Lady: "Good job girl!"
She instantly became my favorite person, because no one else has believed that story.

Countdown to tentative cast removal: 34 days down.  50 to go.

A random thought

The skin on my fingers is literally disintegrating.  Especially on my index finger and thumb.  I mean, what is that?  It looks like I got into a fight with a piece of sandpaper.  I wash my fingers and put lotion on them everyday.  Is it the fact that they never get any water exposure in the shower?  I don't understand.  If someone has an explanation, please share.

In cast related news, I broke down and let all the girls on my volleyball team sign my cast...as if this thing didn't already draw enough attention to itself.  Wow.  I didn't realize teenagers got that excited over signing a cast.  But oh, they did.  Every INCH of my cast is covered in illegible red sharpie.  Seriously- you can't even read it.  What fun is it if you can't even read what they wrote?  I also have both a drawing of a little person and a loaf of bread on my arm now.  Needless to say, I feel extremely mature...






Countdown to tentative cast removal: 26 days down, about 58 to go...I think.

New cast. New color.

I saw my arm yesterday.  Yep, it's still there.  And it was scary looking.  If that's how it looks after 3 weeks, I can't imagine how it will look after 6!  Seriously, I have pretty small wrists to begin with, but my right wrist is now the size of an 8 year old child's.  Oh, my tan line was super awesome too.  Brown fingers, white hand.  Michael Jackson would be proud.

I also learned how they take off a cast.  When the nurse brought in the machine, she must have noticed the terrified look on my face, because she said "The doctor has decided that your fracture is pretty bad and it would be best to just amputate your hand. [smile] Just kidding."  The machine is a small version of a table saw and looks pretty intimidating.  But yes, as we've moved out of the 18th century and into the 21st, they make sure it doesn't saw off your arm, or touch your skin at all for that matter.  It was actually kinda cool.


As I promised myself, I confronted my doctor about the actual time line on this thing.  Well, I kind of confronted him.  After hearing 2 horror stories, I went in to my appointment armed with evidence that proves he had lied to me about the 12 weeks thing.  I was almost sure he was going to cave.  Well, since he's the doctor, he got to talk first.  He said my x-rays look good, and that I can probably get a removable cast in another 3 weeks.  Hoooorrah.  Wasn't expecting that at all.  So when I mentioned that I heard I could possibly be in a cast until the 2nd coming of Christ, he simply responded "What? No."  That's what I get for trying to challenge a freaking Harvard Medical School grad.  I must say though, that this man has got to be one of the most socially awkward people I have ever met.  Or maybe he's just afraid of me- the first time I met him, I burst into tears about how my summer was ruined and my life was essentially over.  Ok, so I might have been a little melodramatic, but he was still really awkward about the whole situation.  I'm sure he sees people cry all the time. 

Downside to the new cast- my thumb sticks out awkwardly now and can now BARELY touch my index finger.  I didn't think this was possible, but my handwriting just got even worse.  Oh, and they didn't have one color even close to tan.  First, I chose this off-white beige color.  The nurse responded with "Sorry honey, we're all out of glow-in-the-dark."  Wow, didn't realize it was glow-in-the-dark, but it would have been pretty funny if I did actually get that one.  My second choice was the plain white.  Well, it's kind of white.  It's a yellow-ish white, but once the nurse finished putting it on, I instantly decided white might have been a bad decision.  It will more than likely be light brown at the end of all this. 

Countdown to tentative cast removal: 21 days down, not sure how many to go...

3 weeks in...almost

I'm considering installing wheels on my laundry basket.  Cause carrying it with my one left arm just isn't gonna work.  I expected this, but I already put off doing laundry for 3 weeks so I was in dire need of clean clothes.  I successfully dragged the basket to the elevator.  When the elevator hit the laundry floor, the bottom of the elevator didn't match up with the floor, so you had to take a small step up to get out.  Well naturally, I didn't notice.  So when I tried to drag the basket out of the elevator, it got stuck and tipped over. No, it didn't completely tip over, but it fell enough to where some underwear totally fell off the top.  And yes, there was a semi-attractive guy standing right there.  Awkward.  So, super, awkward.  Good thing he was only semi-attractive.  And he was wearing jorts, so he instantly lost any cool points.  Regardless, it was embarrassing.

Since most people I encounter (even the cashiers at Safeway) ask what happened to me, I'm trying to get creative with my explanations of what happened.   The only thing I have been able to come up with is that I got into a fight with some girl at the bar.  A few people have believed me, but it turns out that I'm not the liar I used to be in high school.  Not that I lied to my friends in high school or made stuff up...I just lied to the 'rents a lot.  Don't worry- I'm sure they now by now that I didn't actually go see a movie every single night of every single weekend in high school.  If either of them says this is news, they are lying.  Anyhow, why don't people believe that I got into a cat fight?  I mean, I did learn a few things at White Station that would be useful in that situation.  Whenever you saw a chunk of weave on the hallway floor, you knew something interesting recently went down.

I heard yet another story from my friend who broke his scaphoid several years ago.  He was only in a cast for 7 months, as opposed to the last guy who said 9 months.  Hey, with that time line, I would be out of this thing before 2011 rolls around. Sweet.  Things sure are lookin' up.

Countdown to tentative cast removal: 19 days down, 65 days to go.