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the latest
waddle: good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03 elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01 building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19 ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09 my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04
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I've been away. And now I'm typing with only one hand, so you have to forgive the spelling mistakes and all that. I'll try to fix them all, because that's the kind of conscientious (or is that pedantic?) Diarylander that I am, but I can't promise. Yes, I done went and had the surgery, so i am no longer Ganglion Girl. Thursday morning at early o'thirty I showed up at the outpatient surgery unit of Northwestern hospital, and a few hours later the wrist lump was history. A few highlights: Northwestern is a teaching hospital, so I got to put up with multiple residents asking me the same questions in the preoperative suite. They were all young guys, and I got sick of answering the question "What was the date of your last menstrual period?" with a staid, "Um, it's going on now" (which it was), so to the last resident who asked I replied with a chirpy "Currently flowing, sir!" I think I scared him. Finally some nurse anesthetist showed up to put some shots into my saline drip: alprazolam (generic name for Xanax: isn't the idea of a Xanax IV just wonderfully decadent? I could use one of those at work, sometimes) and fentanyl. LT got to stay with me until they took me away to the OR, and after the shots went in the nurse person said, "OK, do you feel sleepy yet?" and LT says I replied, "No, I feel fine" and then my eyes rolled back in my head like in the cartoons and that was all she wrote. He was quite amused. So now I have a messed-up hand. It's all swollen and yellow and ooogy, and I have a big stupid wrist brace on which is supposed to keep me from flexing my wrist. My fingers and thumb are out, so I can sort of type and sort of print, and tie my shoes and all that, but I can't do anything that requires twisting. You would be amazed at how many, many activities of daily living require twisting. The biggies so far are those fucking childproof caps on pill bottles and putting my hair in a ponytail. Very difficult. Here's an observation that could only come from the swamp that is the brain of Mimi Smartypants: The incision is about 3 inches long, horizontally on the back of my wrist, and there's a black stitch that runs along its length, rather than back and forth. I think it looks like a coin slot in the back of my hand. If someone deposited a nickel in my hand I wonder what it could do. ---broken mimi smartypants back/forward |
