Things they are a changin'

If anyone actually does read this blog, one will note that I have not written much of anything in a long time. Partly because the past four months have not gone well. My darling Irish Wolfhound was diagnosed with bone cancer in July and we have been struggling with his amputation, rehabilitation, chemotherapy, and enormous veterinary bills that accompany this treatment. Finnegan is an amazing creature with so much love and courage; it was heartbreaking to watch him struggle to a normal existence. He is now stronger and healthier with the same heart and soul he always had.

Next, I managed to completely wipe out on my bicycle and caused some pretty serious injuries. After Spousal Unit got a flat tire, I volunteered to bike home and get the car. In my rush to get home, I tried to go up on the sidewalk via a driveway, lost control of my bicycle and completely wiped out. I fractured AND dislocated my right wrist (and yes, I am right-handed), scraped a few too many layers off my knee, and scraped up my left arm. Because I was alone, I tried to flag down a car because my wrist was bent in a position not so anatomically correct and blood was gushing from my knee. As I elevated my wrist and sat in the driveway of the school, I attempted to wave someone to stop. Mind you, this was a Sunday around 12:30 in the afternoon, and well over twenty people passed and looked at me without stopping to offer a cell phone. This is at noon. After church. Seriously. No one offered to help? Finally, a nice young woman named, Wendy, stopped her pick up truck, threw my bike in the back and turned around to pick up the Spousal Unit before bringing us home, clear on the other side of town.

Spousal Unit and I went to the emergency room where I was quickly evaluated, x-rayed, and told: "you don't need a medical degree to see this is just wrong". The orthopods arrived and told me they would need to put my wrist back into position. After a very painful numbing injection (hematoma block?) where I believe I screamed "JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH!", he tried to manually pop my wrist into the correct position. Because it was so out of wack, he brought in a medieval torture devise to fix the problem. It looked like one of those Chinese finger puzzles. He stuck my fingers in the contraption and then tied my arm to the bed so it could do it's thing. Once that was through, he put the most gigantic splint on my arm and sent me home with some narcotics for the pain. Oddly enough, at the time of the accident, my wrist did not cause me any pain.

I spent a week in gigantor the splint and then saw an orthopedist who scheduled me for surgery three days later. I was given a sheet of paper telling me to go to the outpatient surgery unit at 8:00. On Monday, we were getting ready when I received a call from the surgery unit asking me if I still planned on having surgery and that I was late! Huh? We frantically gathered our stuff and rushed to the surgery center where I checked in and apologized profusely for the confusion. No one really seemed to care and everyone was quite kind. My biggest scare was that they had my go in the back and change yet I had not said "goodbye" or anything to my Spousal Unit. Due to my overactive imagination, my propensity for being a hypochondriac, and my typical elevated anxiety level, I was convinced I would die during surgery and never see Spousal Unit again. I begged them to send him back, which they did, and he stayed until I was wheeled to the surgery unit on a very nice valium induced state. Before leaving, he gave me the biggest kiss making me feel all warm inside.

After surgery, I woke up in a HUGE amount of pain. The recovery nurse said because I kept falling back asleep, she could not give me pain meds until I was completely awake. After one or two injections and a couple of pills, I started feeling much better. Plus, I was given tasty Lorna Doone cookies and grape juice. Spousal Unit was brought back to me and sat with me while the pain subsided a bit more and I ate 5 packages of cookies and 3 bottles of grape juice. Finally, I was brought home and rented two movies to entertain me for the afternoon. The drugs made me forget which movies I watched. Whoops.

I returned to the doctor's office the next day for a post-surgery follow-up. When the nurse took my splint off, it looked like I had the "man hand" from Seinfeld. Seriously. My hand was HUGE. The nurse explained I would have to return to the office the following Tuesday for another x-ray and placement of a cast. That's all fine and good but...I was supposed to be in Vermont for preparation of my parents' 50th wedding anniversary party. The nurse spoke to the doctor who said if I can get the swelling down, it was NO problem. I could get the cast on before I left. Well, let me tell you (whoever you are) that I iced the sh*t out of my wrist and elevated it so I would not have to leave the beginning of my vacation in Lake Placid to return to home for a new cast. In fact, I looked like a barricaded myself behind my desk at work with a big pile of pillows! It worked, thank god and I got the cast on, went on my vacation and had a blast with my family at my parents' party. Now, I have been in a splint, back in bivalve(???) cast, and now in physical therapy. October 24th, I go back to the orthopod for another x-ray.

That's enough for now.