When it comes to having a cold or flu or some kind of virus, I don't like a lot of fuss. Just let me work on getting better. Hospital visits, on the other hand, shake me to my foundation.
Yes. I realize that people suffer more serious things. In the grand scheme, this is just a painful short term experience. But this is the most significant health issue I've ever experienced that is out of my realm of being able to repair on my own.
This isn't just a broken bone. I forget this. The joint was split into 4 pieces. My wrist will mend, but it will never be the same. I will bear a large, visible scar. For three months, I will have an immobilization plate screwed into the bones of my arm and my hand preventing anything more that just wiggling my fingers. I can feel the plate painfully bind when I move my arm too fast or in ways that used to feel natural. My elbow feels sore and stressed from having to constantly readjust to allow me to move my forearm around.
The pain of healing is just a matter of course. It's going to be uncomfortable healing, it's just a fact, and I'm ok with that. It tires me out, and it lowers my resistance, but it's not horrible. I am frustrated by having to stop doing things I really enjoy. No knitting or crocheting for about 4 months. No carving for at least that long. Spinning will have to wait a month. Chopping food for another week or so. Studying, writing and reading are rough while I still need painkillers. Each day gets me closer to those things, I remind myself.
The thing that is most bothersome is my dependence on others, particularly Brian. He's really doing an awful lot, and he's done it with grace and smiles, but I can see him getting physically tired. And I've been so very needy emotionally and physically. I can't explain exactly why, but I need to be held and reassured. I need tender touches, and frequent hugs, and gentle words. I don't have the emotional strength to go through this silently and stoically without those reassurances. I've been putting on the bravest face from the moment this happened. This did not make me scream. Some have seen quiet tears and have seen pain in my face, but I'm the only one who knows that I'm only showing a small fraction of all I'm feeling. I don't want pity. I want hugs and kisses and positive stories of people healing. I want to laugh and find the humor.
I am amazed that my parents seem to understand this. They call every few days, and keep the conversations light and supportive.
I feel weak, and that isn't a thing I do well with. It's been 9 days since the surgery. I still haven't seen my arm because of the pressure bandage, which comes off on Tuesday. I have thoughts that it's going to look scary and make it so people won't want to see it or touch me while it heals. The 1/2 cast acts as a barrier where we can mostly just ignore the elephant on my wrist.
I think I'm going to lay low this week, try to regain some strength, and reconnect with seph_ski
, who have generously volunteered to take care of me for the 5 days Brian goes on his business trip. I am so lucky to have the people in my life that I do. Even when you are not physically here, you make me feel better with words and gestures.
Ok, I need to quit being a baby, slap on an ice pack, and find something to do with myself. Don't laugh at me, I think I'll color a while.