This is an Xray of my right hand. The damage on the wrist is pretty big. Arthritis and such. Surgery is on Sept. 7.
Sooo, I am posting posts from the vault. They will be clever and engaging, one hopes. PLEASE oh PLEASE read and comment on them. I won't be writing for two weeks or so, and need to hear from people whose writings I follow. Keep me sane!
As might appear, the carpometacarpal joint is circled by someone and seems to have some importance.
I will be having surgery on the joint above. Like most such surgeries, this will be outpatient and not pleasant. Recovery will take forever, but is actually a few months.
My posts for the next weeks will be like this. Education worthy for sure. Stop by and have some giggles?
Comment section will be off for a while, until my digits say otherwise.
Holding a newborn after so many years was such tingling
experience. Such a precious little man, Sean…so precious. Family gathered around him, loving him.
Grandchildren had gone from baby to teens and these grandparents hadn't held a new grandson for years. Sean was the beginning of another
set of babies. Sweet boy...such a precious sweet boy.
Sean could hit the baseball hard, could stretch out his glove, and
catch anything hit his way. Then his
parents noticed that he wasn’t using his left hand.
Doctor visit, then Pediatric Neurologist, then an MRI, and
then on the fourth day Sean’s parents heard the news of a brain tumor. Surgery
would happen in seven days.
The first surgery was done by one of only two Pediatric Neurosurgeons in the entire country. The tumor was wrapping around the brain stem; if the surgery had not been done, he would have died in two months. Sean was nine then.
A new MRI, and then a second surgery. The first surgery had been brutal, but the second was indescribable. So much trauma, so much of who he was, taken away. Sean was ten. Then radiation. Then this…that…this…
Now…Sean is 22 years old.
Now, even after such horrible surgeries which left severe disabilities,
Sean is graduating from University.
There will be rejoicing and tears for this young man, this
precious man, this precious young man. Of all the A to Z posts written this year, this one was the hardest. No words seemed to fit or relay this. My nephew is amazing.
Think of all the crazy nonsense we know. How about jump-rope rhymes? How about “step on a crack, break your mother’s back…”? What about never adding peanuts to RC Cola as an aphrodisiac? The list is embarrassingly long and just plain embarrassing.
But there IS Just Nonsense. This is a book put together for Melynda Fleury, containing some of her excellent observations and stories. Melynda always dismissed her writing as “…nonsense…” but it was anything but that.
With a clarity about life (having lived through many harrowing events herself), Melynda has shared her understanding and compassion with so many bloggers and friends.
One friend, Elisa Hirsch has worked tirelessly to pull this book together for Melynda Fleury, to be released on March 1st, which is today.
You must understand this: Melynda has been blind for the past few weeks. This Friday, March 2nd, she will be undergoing a risky laser surgery to try to restore partial vision.
Please help with this cause to support Melynda by going to the site and purchase her book. This will help her in many many ways.
Go to this site: GoodReads Go right now, do as I say! There.
Today I am typing with my right index finger taped to its best friend, the middle finger. The MF is longer, feeling no pain, and has a nice fingernail. I am certain that, if fingers had miniature brains, it would have been thinking smug thoughts until today.
The right index finger (RIF) has always carried the brunt of the hand’s work, and the nail has always broken easily. RIF was always the one to volunteer for scraping off tape that would not release its cling to the wall. RIF was also dependable in untying knots in shoelaces. In fact, RIF and LIF were the CFO’s when it comes to all things “Hand”.
Today, RIF woke up and hurt like the dickens. I do not know what happened, but somehow I think it got sprained during a very demanding week, during which the LIF and the RIF were putting in overtime in their CFO jobs. But, then, these two digits were always over-achievers. Between all my writing, piano playing, cooking, vegetable dicing, and plant maintenance, they never get a break.
Such a little boo-boo
A Joint Service Medal--no kidding.
The LIF had to have two surgeries in 2010, and it was a real trooper. Never complained, followed restrictions put up with the pain—man, that digit should get a silver star. After all, it was injured in the line of duty. I was walking with my granddaughter, Sunshine, and LIF was instrumental in holding onto that sweet little three-year old hand. When Sunshine and I tripped over something, LIF did all it could to pull Sunshine up, to keep her from slamming into the asphalt. When it came my turn to hit the road (heh, heh), LIF led the rest of the hand in an effort to keep me from serious injury. Together, the RIF and the LIF tried, but I was still knocked out cold.
Coming out of the foggy knock-out, it was obvious that the tendon of the first joint had “blown out”. The LIF endured two surgeries in order to make it functional, although the first joint has a metal screw fusing it in place. LIF feels the cold badly, but it is one strong soldier, so to speak.
They like each other now.
Meanwhile, RIF is taped to MF, snuggly. The two are not getting along very well. The number of typos is astronomical. If RIF is still having pain in a few days, it will have to see my hand doctor, who is so very handsome. I won’t mind the trip, and I think RIF will be fine with that.
This current injury happened in St. Louis, MO. Reference "Stupid Things I have done: #347" for scintillating details of this senseless injury. Both fingers are doing nicely, thanks for your kind thoughts.
