If you have been reading my posts you know I have been recovering from surgery. While the pain of the surgery did not last long in itself, the half cast, then the full cast put on at 2 weeks have caused much discomfort and pain. My hand swells and puts pressure on the bandaging and cast and makes the surgery sites hurt more.
It has been a rough month, but Friday was the day to get the cast off. To me this meant that I would be able to get into things again. I was going to get that thing moving as fast as I could and back to doing all things normally.
Going to get the cast off was exciting and frightening. At my two week appointment when they took the stitches out and put the full cast on I did not like what I saw. Taking my three year old granddaughter along for the visit helped. She had a different perspective and eased my upset with her questions.
The orthopedic tech was really great and answered her with patience. “Why are there purple lines drawn on grammie? ” So the dr. knows how to sew her back up”. “Why are you putting a sock on her arm?” “To keep the cast from rubbing.” On and on she went and got her answers. (Of course when we came home she immediately went and drew purple lines on her hands to match mine!)
Now we were getting ready to have the cast removed. I wondered what it was going to look like. I had a large incision on the back of my hand along my thumb as well as one in my palm and one part way up my arm when the cast went on. What would these look like now?
Again, the three year old took over. “How are you going to get that off of grammie?” “With this saw” The tech then went on to show her the saw and how it worked and that it was not going to cut me. Satisfied that she had explained everything well so even a three year old could understand she proceeded to cut on the cast. Scout was right there wide eyed and watching.
The cast cracked off and the scissors removed the padding and “sock”. Scout yells and claps and said “It is off! Yea, now you can do the cooking!”
We all had a good laugh. My incision still looked ugly. My thumb has no idea how to move and I was told by the physical therapist not to push it or I will undo things. I am in another brace and wonder how hard God is laughing at me for having my plans when His healing plan is not the same.
So, while my up and coming Dr. of a granddaughter continues to learn about surgery with great enthusiasm I feel mopey inside. My sewing is setting, my shelves that need to be painted are leaning against the wall and my hand has to take its good old time.