Sunday, April 30, 2006

I live with a 40 year old man...




I am the surprise party planner of the year and am well rewarded for my surprise party planning.

You'd never catch me planning.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Cherry Bomb

The surgical cast was heavy and quite ornate with glittery stickers as I have many friends of glittersticker age. The stickers are metallic and seem to pop off rather then wear into the surface of the cast and often I would see one riding like a goodwill fugitive on the tip of Willies tail, on the back of my BFs calf or stuck on my bare belly. By the time I went to the doctor today to be recast I had suffered a great many decorative casualties and was laid quite bare and nearly stickerless.


sometimes I have nervous toes


the cutting,


was really creepy

The saw vibrates instead of spins and by demonstration can be pushed into the tip of a human finger without causing injury. Nevertheless it is menacing and made my toes curl.





I told my doctor I needed to photo-journalize the casting event and he helped me pose my arm which, out of the cast was frail, painful and astonishingly weak and withered, though not smelly like I had expected.


unveiling the pins


first light




empty cast

As a matter of course adults are not offered bright and pretty colors for wrapping their broken bones but I found that if you ask nice and are charmingdisarming you just might get to order off the kid menu a cherry red cast, or maybe pink, blue, purple, green or black.

I was torn between red and black but, in the end, felt red was more decidedly healing and hotheadedly sure of it. Plus may attract hummingbirds.


the pins look like little alien eyeballs....


astonished alien eyeballs



My internship is postponed for now, rescheduled for completion in the coming fall term. Still, for lack of one half (0.5) of one (1) four (4) credit spring term class I will not be graduating till next year. For mere two (2) credit deficit I will have to suffer a twelve (12) month span. Shhh...


First bill

And without insurance I am finding the bills are quite beyond the solvency of my piggy bank which was a whopper and was deposited immediately in its entirety.



I only say so for the sake of disclosure, pure and sweet. This is my diary where I do that. Despite everything I am almost insanely happy, am maybe resting in the wake of an airfoil far more intent then I am finally, on the direction of my life. And if feels damn fine to relinquish control.

And I as can't drive I ride the buss everywhere, peeking over the tops of all the books I have been meaning to read for so long and feel blissfully like one of the crazy humans swarming all around me.

Despite my dark and deadly humor I am profoundly optimistic... a pain in the ass pollyanna sunshine girl. I just can't help it.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Outpatient

The fracture is, like, collapsed. The slender stem of the bone is jammed up into the broad knob of the wrist joint and is healing at a 5 degree angle. My right hand wrist is about 27 degrees so all together that's only 32 degrees whereas I really prefer, nay, demand a full 54 degrees of wrist joint. I am a wrist person. I have always insisted on wrists. So this Friday I am going in to have pins inserted into my left wrist before it heals flat and disappointing.




I wonder if the pins will stick out of my skin. Eek!

Sunday, April 09, 2006

I don't care if I get lost, I wish I would



In place of my long running I am long walking. I missed my 10 mile season opener race which was Saturday, the Pear Blossom Run. I don't know if I can run, I intend to ask when I go to the orthopedic surgeon tomorrow but I don't know if I even want to. Confined as I am in a cast full of my own dead skin cells, sweat seems a less then favorable addition.

So I walk long and far in my good shoes. I walk and walk and walk for miles past landscapes and barking dogs, broke-down cars, open shutters, endless blossoms, pensive and vivifying skies. The wind carries my hair all around me as if I was submerged in still water. Eventually, by immersion it seems to me there are no absolutes and everything is possible again.

How grand.

Friday, April 07, 2006

(I am scared of strangers anyway)

Well some of you know and some of you may have guessed and some of you dont care that I will not be attending TequilaCon in New York this year. Ummm, sad.

Please remember to pour one out for your dead injured homies. Next time babies!

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Manual Dexterity



Now with my shiny new cast the ridiculous swelling has gone down and I can once again touch my thumb and forefinger. Hallelujah.



The pricklyitch sensational desire to scratch below the surface of the cast is hypnotic. My mouth is the closest thing I have to a second opposable thumb. For some reason this is still a blessing because it has to be.

Last night I started to write, it all crashed and I tried to recompose myself in MSWord.

WHILE I WAS ONEHANDING IT GIMPANDPLUCKY-LIKE OVER THE KEYBOARD I HIT AND HELD SOME COMBINATION OF KEYS THAT TOTALLY IMMOBILIZED MY MOUSE> HELD MY KEYBOARD HOSTAGE AND TURNED THE FLIMSY OPTIMISM OF THE BROKEN WRIST INTO A DEEP PIT OF DESPAIR WHERE YOU TIE YOUR SHOES WITH YOUR TEETH AND SMELL UNWASHED AND ITCHY


My faith is fragile. I thought I might have the chance to breathe, watch daytime TV and be taken care of but that was a fantasy to get me through the first few days when I could wimper I WANT MY MOMMY and she came running with hot tea and more blankets. I am such a wimp in the face of cosmic violence. All violence is cosmic. I cant say why. It just is.


normal sized hand

The runes and stars say, and I too say, I had all my bad luck before the age of twelve and now I can coast on down the slope to death sailing pretty on good karma. My challenge now is to fit the event into that paradigm or my whole world collapses.

SO...
lets have it, the top five reasons to break your dominant-hand wrist at the least opportune time!

5. Vicodin
4. Forging your own signature
3. 6 months to complete three months worth of schoolwork... paradise!!
2. A perfectly good excuse
1. Care packages from your friends



And still I think this could be good for me in the same way that physical therapy provides for muscular compensation, so too will this recompense me for the wield and worry of rightbrainedness. I want a big steak-sized corpus callosum. No better way then with force tie down the expression of the stronger half I say.



Saturday, April 01, 2006

How I Became Linear and Logical (-or- Lesson 47 : Free Fall and the Acceleration of Gravity)


The mountains jut up from the edge of town


They are tranquil and do not intend to harm you


We do not mean any harm either


But steep is steeper then good intentions

******

This is a one-handed, two-footed effort, and a total pain in the ass. My left foot cramps when a word is more then two syllables. I cannot keep up with my thought process this way.

So this is it. I broke my wrist in a violently explosive toss while snowboarding on a black diamond run. I was blue skies and bent knees till suddenly I wasn't.

I remember distinct thoughts between moments of successive impact. The very first thing was the snapcrack... worrying about my camera... impatient that I was still falling, remembering then on the next bounce that it was actually a very steep hill. (that last notion helpful, apologetic...)



I sat up, assessed myself and decided to ride down. My wrist was limp and trembling. My mother had ridden an adjacent chair up we had planned to meet halfway down. I found her waiting, refused to let her call for Ski Patrol and rode out the rest of the hill, edging and sometimes carving. I fell once. My mother skied down behind me. When I got to the bottom I was seeing stars and thought this was not my best moment. I was deeply and genuinely miserable.

The clinic staff set me with oxygen breathing tubes which eventually relieved my nausea and general bloodlessness. They were so familiar with wound and torment that my trauma normalized and I even took the time to note cheerily that the finger-thingy captured a resting heart-rate of 47 beats per minute. (Yessss!)

They iced, X-rayed, shot me with horse needles of novocaine, tractioned my arm and set my wrist with aerobic passion. I took two panting people to wrestle the bones into place. I do not recommended this experience. It is exotic and psychologically traumatic. The pain, and absence of pain, awareness of absence and general brutality of the event is scarring.



But I love them for they were kind and they fixed me.

For two more days my mother tended to every blanket-tucking, tea-sipping need she could invent till I was fairly bursting with well-being and self determination and snapped that I might damn well do something for myself. But I enjoyed my luck immensely.

We spent a whole afternoon making endless phone calls, setting tentative and progressively more timely and attractive appointments with various orthopedic surgeons back home. We revised the future and optimized the event until we were utterly convinced that the fall is a brilliant stroke of luck and that a broken wrist had prevented a dire and ill fated chain of events.

(Now I am home and I miss her terribly. )


Where I once had loose skin over my knuckle I now have a deep, taut dimple

This is a horribly timed and deeply ironic event. Everyone knows how I wrung my hands over the QE. Failing would have meant I would not be able to start an internship this spring term (beginning Monday, the day after tomorrow). I would have had to wait until next fall to test again, delaying my internship until next winter. Student loan money would be available only after stringent appeals...stress, wages lost, general malaise and reckoning with failure...

Now, a few short days before starting that coveted internship and my final term I break my left wrist... the most relevant bone in my body being a left-handed sign language interpreter. Most very likely I cannot work, no student loan money is coming, internship delayed, no health insurance, lost wages including potential interpreting income, no Pear Blossom, no running at all, financial holocaust, doom.doom.doom.

I really can't say anything definative until I meet with the surgeon but even after my prelimary audit of risk and loss, worst-case scenerios, I don't feel at all hopeless.

My baby, when I called him he said WE'LL MAKE IT THROUGH and met me at the airport with flowers. He is right, we will survive. My luck is pure gold and my timing is impeccable, and I am nothing, have nothing without the people who love me.

Archives

About Me