A few days ago, life gave me a plum: Four weeks to the day, the wrist cast has been removed! It came as a bit of a surprise, since someone suddenly moved my appointment forward by two weeks. I’d just this very week mastered the art of driving my stick-shift car, so I was able to go to my rescheduled appointment under my own steam.
I was X-rayed and the cast was removed (which I wasn’t expecting): so there I sat in the waiting room, feeling like a tortoise that had its shell stolen. My lovely hot pink shell!
My newly freed wrist felt a lot worse that I had expected; quite painful, even when doing nothing. Oh dear, no more knitting once again. I was now trying to work out how on earth I would extricate my car from the parking lot and get home, as it seemed unlikely that I’d be able to drive once again, as well. I was rather despondent and stewed considerably!
In the end all was well. I was fitted with an ugly black, but removable, brace. Phew. I was thrilled at the prospect of being able to wash the arm and hand. Small but mighty pleasures. Most importantly, two weeks less in plaster means two weeks less inactivity that I would have to recover from. Things are looking up.
Now I must get on with re-acquainting the wrist with its former lifestyle.
First discovery: The joy of two-handed dental flossing has to be experienced to be believed! I’ve been amazed at the amount of progress the wrist has made in the last few days. It’s still pretty tender, slightly swollen and very stiff, but I’m able to manage without the brace unless I’m doing something critical or strenuous like driving or bed making! I’m doing my stretching exercises as ordered, and can type and knit! In fact, both of these are recommended (they also suggest washing dishes – but I’m not revealing that to anyone other than you).