Behind the Seams

You wouldn’t know it, but this is an amazing one handed post!

Welcome to the continuing saga of having my hand sliced open. I know, it’s edge of your seat stuff. Pins and needles. I’m going to have to beat readers away with a stick.

Understand: this is a maddeningly slow process getting this post up. And I’m not allowed to twist, pull or stretch my wrist in any way. If I do that I can mess something or other up REALLY BAD under the slice. Which I apparently don’t want to do because it would be REALLY BAD! So I'm typing with my right hand while my left hand watches, feeling a little smug because it has a good excuse for doing nothing.

I got a good look at the slice this morning as they cut off the old cast and put on a new, smaller one. The slice wasn’t as far down on the wrist as I thought it would be. It’s at the base of the hand above the wrist. But it is definitely Frankensteinish, with black thread holding the seam together, which is kind of cool.

Here’s something you don’t hear very often: “The nerve looks pretty good.”

That’s what the doc said to my wife right after the surgery.

She said, “But I thought there was nerve damage.”

The doc paused for a second and said, “Yeah. I’m going to have to write a paper about that.

This guy is really cool. He looks a little nerdy, but don’t be fooled: he knows his business. He glows with competence. But he seems to be one of those people who are so smart they can have a hard time in the world. You know, trying to relate and such. At the same time, he also has an almost childlike sense of wonder and humor about him.

I like him, and I like having a doctor I like.



Peace to you.


© LW Publishing 2011