Exciting News Wrist Fans!!
I thought today was supposed to be a routine post-op cast change but much to my (and your) delight, there was a very nice surprise.
I should have known something was different because it was raining. Normally when I'm incapacitated there is uninterrupted warm sunshine and the birds sing like a rumbled Stuart Hall. Today though, it was different. It was wet and cold, like a trout with a grudge.
The journey to Stepping Hell began as it always does with a short adventure up the A6 on the WiFi enable 192. The free bandwidth was being battered by the students upstairs who were no doubt downloading important school stuff. Judging by the comments about 'Brazilians' and 'coming first' I can only assume they were studying F1 race drivers. Soon it was my turn to get off.....the bus. I pegged it for cover so as my existing plaster wouldn't get too soggy.
As I made my way onto the hospital grounds I didn't even bother looking at the signs. I knew the layout like the back of my hand. The hand I could still see, obviously. The hand I couldn't see was about to get its first airing in a good few weeks. I got comfy in Outpatient reception until the lovely Michelle called my
name across a sea of bored and broken faces.
I was taken into the back room reserved for really brave soldiers. "Do you know why you're here today?" said Michelle in her best, let's get this cracked out so as I can have an early lunch, voice. "Yep" I replied.
That was a lie. The only information I had was gleamed from reading my post-op notes whilst the anaesthetic wore off from Op3.0.
She explained that today I was indeed going to have a new cast. Yay! I was also going to have my stitches out. Cool!
The wounds underneath confirmed what I'd always suspected. I was part Jesus! The sun never shone in front of me because it was too busy shining out of my arse.
I literally am, Christ on a bike.
Stigmata aside, the stitches were uber close to my median nerve which seemed to enjoy reminding it was there every time a stitch was pulled.
I might have noodles for lunch.
My request to 'ave a go' at removing the threads was flatly ignored, but once I had been un-crocheted I enquired about the pins still inside me. Michelle had a quick conflab with Ms. Machete Maestro who had performed the surgery and who just happened to be passing at the time. In reality, she was probably just hovering around her favourite patient/deity. It turns out that I don't need anymore operations!!! What I thought were k-wires under my skin are in fact bone anchors very similar to the ones holding my capsule together. The anchors had a good enough bite, so the pins were pulled out during the surgery.
This is indeed good news because it means I only need to spend four more weeks in a cast before I can start fizzeo again.
Time to get plastered.
Even better news is that I won't have to bore you all with more blogs about my ailing appendages.
See, there is a God. I call him Daddy.