One Year Ago Today…..
It was May 30, 2020, when I had the horrific bike accident (see post) which resulted in a fractured wrist.
The next day, I planned to get an x-ray at a walk-in clinic but after I fainted twice while getting dressed, my husband called EMS. Of course, Covid was in full swing a year ago so when I went to the hospital my husband was not allowed to accompany me. There, I was given my first Covid test and then the attending surgeon (luckily for me, a wrist specialist) confirmed that the x-rays showed significant damage. A splint was applied and surgery was scheduled for June 4.
For the surgery, I was given a nerve block which essentially put my entire arm asleep. I was assured feeling would return sometime in the middle of the night and that when it did, I should take a pain killer. Of course, I obsessed over the possibility that feeling would never return and I’d have a useless arm for the rest of my life.
Meanwhile, I obtained a waterproof “sleeve” from the drugstore that allowed me to shower, my food was cut by my husband, and I learned how to write with my left hand. My tech guy (again, my husband) set me up with voice-to-text on the computer so I could email (I couldn’t type). I did many jigsaw puzzles, read books and learned how to play Words with Friends on my phone. I started physical therapy and continued exercises daily at home. Eventually, I could do things that I couldn’t initially: eat and write with my right hand, turn my hand palm up, hold a little weight.
The therapist, Maria, was one of the best I’ve ever had (and I’ve had several since I am so physically active and often need to rehabilitate a sprain or muscle pull.) I “played” with pegs, a putty-like substance, small weights and other devices.
Eventually she dismissed me and I got a device to help get more flexion in my wrist. It looked like a medieval torture device. Screws had to be tightened, angles measured.
So why am I commemorating this awful year? When I asked the surgeon to give me a timeline he started with accomplishments in weeks and ended up saying “back to normal in a year.” And here it is … a full year later and with only occasional minor reminders, I am “back to normal.”
Recently I went through a metal detector when entering the synagogue for my granddaughter’s Bat Mitzvah. The bells went off because of the plate in my wrist.
Sh-t happens and time heals all wounds. If you’re suffering from a minor setback like a bone fracture, keep your spirits up, follow the doctor’s orders and remember: the time will come when you’ll be whole once again.
(A)Musings by Arlene 