...is a pain. Thus the crickets you've been hearing around here. I had surgery on my wrist last Wednesday and didn't realize I would be in a cast for two weeks afterwards. A big ugly one. With tape on it. You know, you would think that the doctor or nurse or whoever wrapped this up would have taken the time to at least make it look halfway decent. Instead I look like the kids went crazy with packing tape on my arm. ;-)
And everywhere I go, people ask what I did. I know, they're being nice. And they're being curious, which is fine too. But still. I'm thinking I'll just keep wearing long sleeves even though we're in the 80's. ;-)
You know what I look forward to most? Washing my hand. Really scrubbing it. When I came out of surgery, I had iodine up to my elbow. They must have just dunked my hand in a bucket of the stuff. And I can still see some of it peaking out at me from the inside of my cast. This arm is going to need a thorough soaking.
I know, I'm complaining. And I shouldn't. The nice lady at the grocery store checkout told me she once cut her tendon by her thumb and had to wear a cast for two months, and couldn't use that hand at all. I have a cast for two weeks, and have full use of my fingers. Well, not full. I can't really type. I'm amazed at the things that require the use of the wrist. Sweeping? I never really thought about it, but the hand that isn't really in charge of the broom is still doing a whole lot more than just holding on to it.
So, I know I shouldn't complain. I've got it easy. Sorry. You can go about your day now.
*Edited on 4/7: I realized I never mentioned what happened. I had a minor surgery to remove a cist on my wrist. ;-)