Traumatized hand #6

THE UNFORTUNATE DEMISE OF MY RIGHT HAND

From a right-handed mystery writer

The Bands

          After another ten days, I saw the doctor. He announced that it looked good, "Now time to move onto therapy."  Hurrah!

          He gave me what he called a Buddy Band to hold the two involved fingers together. My hand felt free, finally. Even though the two fingers were tied together, it felt wonderful.

          I had already asked around and found an Occupational Therapist (OT) who was a Certified Hand Therapist and made an appointment for the following Monday. (Yes, even before the doctor told me to do so).

          The doctor also warned that the exercises the OT would give me would be painful but to stick with it. Good encouragement?

          The next 4 four days Lefty, Righty and me had several conversations regarding the need for both hands to work together. I specifically had many of these conversations in front of the refrigerator. To provoke it into anger, to challenge it into a knockdown fight to prove its guilt. Yet it's defying, stiff, stand never wavered.

          These four days waiting for OT to begin are long, and I'm bit apprehensive.

Traumatized hand #5

THE UNFORTUNATE DEMISE OF MY RIGHT HAND

From a right-handed mystery writer

The Brace

          After ten days of the splint, I saw the doctor.  he removed the five stitches and gave me a brace. It was custom made to fit my swollen hand and very comfortable if I say so myself. I was warned by the doctor, nurse and brace maker to go lightly on my two fingers that were involved. "No typing, meal preparation, dishes or anything that will cause the newly repaired tissue to separate,"they explained in so many words.

          Both hands were present and they heard the warning. Yet slowly the fingers and wrist of my right side began to move,  just a little at a time but got stronger with each day. The wound was fresh and painful at times but the swelling decreasing by the day. Lefty also continued to grow stronger and more efficient. My right wrist was unable to move from being in one position for ten days.  All of the muscles in my hand, wrist, and forearm lacked tone and strength. Righty convinced Lefty to help with wrist exercises and slowly both worked to improve Righty's wrist movements.

          The refrigerator did not like what it saw and jeered at the cooperation among the hands. Divide and conquer was not going to work for Refrigerator so he started plotting more cunning ways to taunt me, all the while maintaining its unyielding stance of mockery to my injury.

Traumatized hand #4

THE UNFORTUNATE DEMISE OF MY RIGHT HAND

From a right-handed mystery writer

The Splint

          On the fifth day, I started to wean myself off the pain pills but remained primarily in bed. I was told to keep my hand and elbow above my heart to decrease the swelling. It was easier to do by laying down and propping up my elbow and hand with pillows than walking around with my hand resting on top of my head and elbow above my heart!!

          When I was well enough to walk around I peered into the kitchen, the refrigerator saw me but it remained aloof. It had changed again in the eight days since my surgery, but not sure why or how. Never the less I looked at it with a chip on my shoulder. My mind began to plan my defense with a crime report and pictures of the crime location.

          My useless left hand, Lefty,  slowly became tired and overworked. It was my only functioning hand. But Lefty took the challenge with zest and zeal, showing off its strength and coordination. Righty was too sick to notice its doppelganger, plus it was hidden from the world by bandages.  Lefty took this opportunity show Righty off. Now was Lefty's chance!

          Lefty also joined the refrigerator to conspire. Refrigerator aptly plotted and planned, outshining even Lefty with its cunning.

         

The Traumatized Hand #3

THE UNFORTUNATE DEMISE OF MY RIGHT HAND

From a right-handed mystery writer

The Surgery

          The day of surgery came fast. Since I wasn't allowed to eat past midnight, last night, I had no reason to interact with the evil refrigerator. I refused to give it a last moment of amusement.

          Surgery was set  for 8:30am, check in was 7:30am. I was put to sleep to the music of Hawaiian Slat Key Guitar music (my surgeon is from Hawaii). I woke up in recovery with what looked like a cast but was a full splint. My doctor came by to tell me that he found a second tear and he repaired it as well. That blasted refrigerator!

          It hurt, but with pain pills, I didn't seem to care. Bill did a great job caring for me and my wound. The refrigerator had no opportunity to mock me since it had no communication with me.

          So I have to admit I slept through most of the next 3 days blissfully on pain pills very aware of the huge splint that went from the first knuckle of my hand to the middle of my forearm. Heavily padded, the splint weighed a ton.

Traumatized hand #2

Traumatized hand  #2

THE UNFORTUNATE DEMISE OF MY RIGHT HAND

From a right-handed mystery writer

The Tortuous Journey

          I was sent home with a full arm splint. The refrigerator continued to stand there rigid and silent even after it saw my condition!  Not a word or movement. It had changed, somehow, since I left for Urgent Care. Like it didn't care. It just went about its business.

          After two weeks of the silent treatment from my refrigerator, I got used to it. I realized something was wrong with the diagnosis of a sprained hand. So I checked around and found an Orthopedic Surgeon who specialized in hands and wrists in Culver City.

           It took two weeks to get an appointment because the doctor is so good. Another two weeks of not knowing what was wrong with my hand and facing the unrepentant refrigerator. I was tempted to call the police since it was acting so strange. It had to be guilty of plotting and instigating the attack.  But who would believe me?

          The doctor took one look at my hand and announced that I had torn the ligament off the bone between the first and second fingers of my right hand.  "This will require surgery,"  he proclaimed.  

          After getting my head wrapped around the idea of  "surgery", I scheduled an MRI with a consult the same day. Another week passed.

          The day before the MRI my doctor came down with the flu! Fortunately, the Physician Assistant was in and met with me to discuss the findings of the MRI and discussed surgery. We then scheduled surgery for...two weeks away. That makes it seven weeks since the incident. I'm sure the refrigerator is pleased with itself.