It is All Relative

 I'm not ashamed to admit that I am so ready for this to be over. Never could I have imagined that I would be writing a post, seven weeks after my fall, and still have no use of my left hand. My thumb remains crazy stiff; thankfully my fingers move, but not well. That said, without a working thumb there is not much one can accomplish. And therein lies my problem. I am a doer and, sadly this doer cannot do much! Not when my hand stays mostly in a swollen state.

All that super pink part is due to the top layer of skin peeling off. Finally, this weekend I figured out a better way of treating it using a soft dish towel to wrap it after I coat it with Aquaphor. So, not only is the swelling unsightly, the skin is as well. Oy vey!

I do, however, have three new and fun dishtowels that I am not using for the above purpose. One from Carlene, a new reader of this space thanks to Patti who introduced her to my musings. Michelle gave me two for Mother's Day and if there is anyone who loves practical gifts it is me. Now. if only I could get back to cooking and baking! Last night I had Bruce cut the broccoli and I managed the rest for roasting. Not much to it but it's a start.

It must have been Thursday that I took a stroll on the property with my camera in tow. I spotted a small feather that once lived on a Limpkin floating in the clear shallow water of Lake Pineloch. 

From a distance floating decoys look pretty real, that is until the real thing appears, A Cormorant at rest.

Friday morning Bruce asked if I might enjoy walking around the Winter Park Art Festival while he continued working on the columns at church? I could not have been happier with his idea. Slipping my arm into the removable splint, I walked the two blocks to Park Avenue leaving him to his work.

Wallowing in my misery I've neglected to mention that the weather has turned cooler, bringing sunny skies, low humidity, and temperatures in the low 80's. In other words, an unexpected blessing.

Normally held in the middle of March, the weekend in May was a first. A Covid 19 thing. Advertising was almost non existent, so on this Friday the crowds were just right.

Although I was sorely tempted, in the end we did not return to buy two pieces we both liked from this artist, whose booth is pictured below.

Because it is May the roses are beginning to bloom as is the gorgeous Wisteria.

People were respectful of one another, either keeping their distance or wearing masks. Placards with the artist information were printed prior to the new CDC guidelines so masks were required in the booths, or so the sign said. Seeing the Emily fountain by Albin Polasek in the bright sunshine is always welcome and reminds me of my days at the museum.

For those new to this space I began there as an intern during my last semester at Valencia and stayed on for a number of years as a volunteer.

Seeing the art was great, but seeing friends for the first time in ages was even better. First I ran into Ann and Liz who were appalled seeing my hand in person. It is one thing to see a photograph and quite another seeing it up close and personal. Actually, I saw them twice, once while strolling and once while they were having refreshments at a sidewalk table. While chatting I noticed the ladies at the table beside them staring at my hand and what they had to say heartened me just a bit. Turns out that they have a friend who broke her wrist about the same time as I did who is not only having similar problems with swelling but, who also has a doctor like mine. Apparently he told her the swelling is normal and if it does not improve in three months, come and see him. So, yeah for learning of a fellow sufferer and boo to the notion that I might go three months like this!! Secondly, I ran into Cynthia and Joe and we had a lovely chat during which time I tried talking about more than my accident. One subject that came up was the vaccine and folks that are "vaccine reluctant", another term to add to our list of new phrases associated with Covid 19. While I cannot understand their position, if given the chance, I would do it again in a heartbeat.

All weekend I worked on trying to make a fist, icing and elevating, all of which were for naught. 😞

Now that we know where we are going, getting to the therapy appointment went off without a hitch. Before I tell you about what happened to me, something occurred in the waiting room that was so poignant I am putting it down for posterity. An old couple, it's hard to say but maybe 10-15 years older than we are, was already in the waiting room. The receptionist asked the woman who her doctor was to which she replied that she could not remember but for sue it was an Eastern medicine doctor because she did not trust Western medicine. (flashback to our sister Carol!) Anyway she and her husband began a guessing game, using the alphabet, trying to figure it out. Then they remembered the man's mobile phone but couldn't remember a phone number. I wanted to help but at the same time, wondered if they would be embarrassed. Eventually they figured it out but it was painful to witness, imagining it could be me in the future! 

Darlene began our session with a warm compress, hoping to alleviate some of the swelling before we began our exercises. Another woman was seated nearby having a treatment on her wrist, FIVE months after her accident. Long story short, Darlene reiterated that everyone's healing process is different and I just have to be patient. It is worth noting that my fracture is healing as expected and I am just one of the unlucky ones who experience other problems which in my case is swelling with subsequent tightness in my tendons. She moved my hand many ways, bent my fingers at each joint, telling me to have her stop when the pain reached level five. Listening intently, I did my best to commit the exercises to memory. That said, I came home with this.

The arm up means raising it above my head in hopes that gravity will help. In some ways it seems like a Catch 22 because how am I really supposed to make a fist with a deflated balloon atop my hand? If only the swelling would decrease, I think that I could make a fist. 

I must trust the process.

I must trust the process.

I must trust the process.

Following the exercising, she wrapped my arm in a big sleeve,

which is attached to two machines that pumped cool water around my arm as well as a very light massage.

That would be Darlene on the left, helping her next patient. One area of improvement I've experienced is that I can finally turn my hand palm down without crying out. Actually that is huge and not a moment too soon as I'm on the verge of having elbow and shoulder problems from the unnatural position I've adopted in order to not be in pain.

Baby steps has to be my mantra! 

So the seated woman finishing her last treatment broke her right arm, and the closed reduction done at the outset slipped meaning she had surgery. She described her despair over how long healing has taken and how hard it is to be helpless for so long. A seemingly lovely women in her late 40's, she was not trying to frighten me, only reinforcing what I already know.

It is all relative!

your friend,

Gail

p.s. today is Bruce's birthday and call me crazy if you want, but I'm going to try my hand (no pun intended) at making him a simple cake.