…on June 29.
It’s been an interesting journey, this whole recovery thing. And now manipulation is hopefully the beginning of the end.
I noted on Facebook the other day that between a trip to the ER, a visit to the OR (soon to be two), two casts, a brace, appointments with three separate doctors, five prescriptions, ten sessions of physical therapy and a possible referral to a dermatologist since my scar is looking UH-GLEE…that rock climbing birthday party of Marly‘s turned out to be the single most expensive night of my life.
My range of motion hasn’t improved much in the past couple of weeks. I knew it wouldn’t. After my last follow up with the orthopedic surgeon, I was feeling pretty low and trying to figure out exactly how to wrap my mind around the idea of not having a full recovery.
Right now, my arm only turns about halfway and my wrist hardly bends.
The good news? The fracture is FINALLY healed!
(I honestly think giving up soda helped. But that could just be superstition or something.)
But this motion issue is kind of a problem. Enough of a problem that Dr. K wants to knock me out in the OR and force things to move. Because if it doesn’t start moving then I’ll probably never be able to play baseball or golf or even do that evil gym workout again.
Fortunately, this procedure is going to be a lot quicker and more simple than the last one. You know, where they had to turn my arm part-bionic. I have to be knocked out, but they’re going to gas me this time. Which sounds SO much better than being poked with needles seven times and ending up with an IV in my foot.
It’s also supposed to take about five minutes or so.
All of this effort and preparation and waiting around for something that’s going to take five minutes.
But if it means getting the chance to cross off #46 before the year is up, I’d say it’s worth it.