Friday, June 29, 2012

Huh.

Well, I have been relieved of the cast on my right arm, thank various and sundry gods.

The amount of atrophy in my right hand, wrist and forearm is ... staggering.

I had anticipated that six weeks of not being able to move my little and ring finger was going to have unpleasant effects once the cast was off, but I really hadn't planned on it affecting as far up my arm as it obviously is.

*sigh*

When the tech cut the cast off, she ambled off to get the doctor, leaving me to my own devices -- probably not a good thing, come to think.

Anyhoo, I had my right hand flat on the table, left hand on the knuckles and leaning my weight in as I twisted my shoulder -- because I wanted my bloody fingers to straighten out, damn it, that's why -- when I looked up to see the doctor and a stranger in the doorway.

The doctor heaves the mighty sigh of one beset by the tribulations of a cruel and not-very-smart world, turns to the lady beside him and says, "Physical therapy?"

She offers one rather un-lady-like snort, and opines, "Why? There's nothing I can do to him that he's not already topping."

I am prescribed a brace to be worn for the next four weeks, take it off to sleep, to shower and three times a day to squeeze a ball. Final evaluation two weeks after that.

*sigh*

Ah, well. At least the sodding cast is off.

LawDog