Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Eight weeks later...

I am out of the cast, pins and all. I asked if I could pull one of them out. My doctor, who is good and who is afraid of no bone handed me the pliers but I chickened out at the last minute. I wish I hadn't. Of course, the loose pin came out the easiest. The other two resisted a little, then gushed. Blood welled up to the surface and poured out. Oof. Now I have a thin white wrist. It is unimaginative like sculpted by a divorcee taking night classes. She might get better if she studies anatomy, might sculpt with a sense of underlying structure. But not yet.

Sam called and sang HAPPY CAST DAY into my voicemail. Clark brought me a dozen long stem red roses. We are going out to dinner tonight and I hope my dress still fits. Eek!

My Dad brought my bike back to Portland with him all fixed up and road ready. I have been a good sport on the sidelines but watching people cross the finish line on Saturday all salty and rubber-legged full of hunger and thirst made me very sad and a little jealous. But my bike is back, and my wrist is healed and I won't be on the sidelines anymore.

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