Quite A Day
Some days just don't stop happening. Thursday, 5 November, was one of them.
It started out badly. I am not a morning person; I feel strongly that if I get up before 7:30 a.m., I want to be getting on a big silver plane and flying somewhere. Thursday morning I gave up trying to gp back to sleep at 6:30 a.m. and sat down at my laptop and tackled the money problem that had gotten me awake. The problem turned out to be mostly in my head and not in our finances, but by the time I'd sorted it out, it was too late to go back to bed. What made the early start even more painful was that I hadn't fallen asleep until after 3:00 a.m., so I was starting my day off on two hours of sleep, at the most.
My first stop of the day was with my hand therapist at Pennsylvania Hospital, a block and a half from my house. I saw Jennifer twice after my cast came off, first to measure the hand's function compared to the function of my uninjured right hand. At the second visit, she gave me a series of exercises to do and some mint green putty to use with them and told me to come back only if I needed to. My hand seemed to be progressing nicely...I could definitely open the tops of jars easily that I couldn't budge a month earlier...but I wanted confirmation.
The measurements took better than a half an hour. I was happy to have my suspicions confirmed: my left hand is now equal to or stronger than my right except for two pinching motions:
One finger-thumb pinch.
Two finger-thumb pinch.
Neither of these pinching motions showed much improvement because, I told Jennifer, they hurt my wrist. When I showed Jennifer where the wrist hurt, she said, "That's not from the break. I think you have some arthritis in your wrist that was stirred up by the break."
The break does still ache, however, mostly a dull, mild ache but occasionally a sharp, shooting pain when I make an odd motion. Jennifer said that, based on what her patients tell her, breaks will take from one to two years to heal completely and be pain free. That was good to hear, because I was beginning to wonder if I should worry because it wasn't healing faster.
After my appointment with Jennifer, I went straight to Boutique Salon, a matter of two blocks, to get the very nice manicure you see in the two illustrative pictures I just took.
Then, because I was quite hungry, I crossed the street to Starbucks and had lunch. Finally I walked one block further to Super Fresh and bought cat food for dear Razor the Picky Eater. Then it was home to putter around the house the rest of the day, doing this and that; i.e., I have no idea what.
It wasn't until 8:30 p.m. that I decided to resume reading an article I had started reading for Samantha on black feminism...jargon-filled but still interesting...and couldn't find my Kindle Fire. I could only have left it in the dining room or my office; I knew I hadn't had it in the kitchen or bathroom and those were the only other two rooms I'd been in. It was nowhere to be found. I'd already had my bath and was in my pajamas, so I called Starbucks immediately. It hadn't been seen. I got that Kindle tablet on sale, and it currently lists for $150 more that I paid for it. Oy. Mentally, I gave it up. I figured someone walked out of Starbucks that afternoon with an up-market Kindle.
I was surprised to sleep very well that night. I was really very tired and nothing kept me awake.
Friday, after breakfast, I went to John's to work out with him, doing much the same routine that I do with my physical therapist. Afterwards, when I wasn't offered lunch, I took the bus and the subway to the Dickinson Street post office to collect two packages. From there I planned my walk home, a matter of three-quarters of a mile, so that I ended up at Starbucks. I figured I'd get there about the same time I had lunch on Thursday, the same crew would be working, and maybe one of them rescued my baby. I could also stop at the Nail Salon where I definitely left my off-the-rack cheap glasses. I had clearly not been hitting on all cylinders the day before.
Starbucks was empty when I got there, so I huddled with all four employees and none of them remembered my Kindle at all. One guy went back in the back and checked again: they did not have it. Oh well, it had been a long shot. I popped across the street, and one of the Asian nail technicians came right to the front desk and pulled out my glasses. No surprise there. Then she reached in again and pulled out my Kindle. I left both there and only remembered my glasses. I had been sure I read my black feminism article while I ate my sandwich and drank my flat white, but no! I had done that while my nails dried. I must have played on my phone over lunch. Oh, well, all's well that ends well but I need to be more careful with my belongings. MUCH more careful, she vowed, for the hundredth time. FanSee
It started out badly. I am not a morning person; I feel strongly that if I get up before 7:30 a.m., I want to be getting on a big silver plane and flying somewhere. Thursday morning I gave up trying to gp back to sleep at 6:30 a.m. and sat down at my laptop and tackled the money problem that had gotten me awake. The problem turned out to be mostly in my head and not in our finances, but by the time I'd sorted it out, it was too late to go back to bed. What made the early start even more painful was that I hadn't fallen asleep until after 3:00 a.m., so I was starting my day off on two hours of sleep, at the most.
My first stop of the day was with my hand therapist at Pennsylvania Hospital, a block and a half from my house. I saw Jennifer twice after my cast came off, first to measure the hand's function compared to the function of my uninjured right hand. At the second visit, she gave me a series of exercises to do and some mint green putty to use with them and told me to come back only if I needed to. My hand seemed to be progressing nicely...I could definitely open the tops of jars easily that I couldn't budge a month earlier...but I wanted confirmation.
The measurements took better than a half an hour. I was happy to have my suspicions confirmed: my left hand is now equal to or stronger than my right except for two pinching motions:
One finger-thumb pinch.
Two finger-thumb pinch.
Neither of these pinching motions showed much improvement because, I told Jennifer, they hurt my wrist. When I showed Jennifer where the wrist hurt, she said, "That's not from the break. I think you have some arthritis in your wrist that was stirred up by the break."
The break does still ache, however, mostly a dull, mild ache but occasionally a sharp, shooting pain when I make an odd motion. Jennifer said that, based on what her patients tell her, breaks will take from one to two years to heal completely and be pain free. That was good to hear, because I was beginning to wonder if I should worry because it wasn't healing faster.
After my appointment with Jennifer, I went straight to Boutique Salon, a matter of two blocks, to get the very nice manicure you see in the two illustrative pictures I just took.
Then, because I was quite hungry, I crossed the street to Starbucks and had lunch. Finally I walked one block further to Super Fresh and bought cat food for dear Razor the Picky Eater. Then it was home to putter around the house the rest of the day, doing this and that; i.e., I have no idea what.
It wasn't until 8:30 p.m. that I decided to resume reading an article I had started reading for Samantha on black feminism...jargon-filled but still interesting...and couldn't find my Kindle Fire. I could only have left it in the dining room or my office; I knew I hadn't had it in the kitchen or bathroom and those were the only other two rooms I'd been in. It was nowhere to be found. I'd already had my bath and was in my pajamas, so I called Starbucks immediately. It hadn't been seen. I got that Kindle tablet on sale, and it currently lists for $150 more that I paid for it. Oy. Mentally, I gave it up. I figured someone walked out of Starbucks that afternoon with an up-market Kindle.
I was surprised to sleep very well that night. I was really very tired and nothing kept me awake.
Friday, after breakfast, I went to John's to work out with him, doing much the same routine that I do with my physical therapist. Afterwards, when I wasn't offered lunch, I took the bus and the subway to the Dickinson Street post office to collect two packages. From there I planned my walk home, a matter of three-quarters of a mile, so that I ended up at Starbucks. I figured I'd get there about the same time I had lunch on Thursday, the same crew would be working, and maybe one of them rescued my baby. I could also stop at the Nail Salon where I definitely left my off-the-rack cheap glasses. I had clearly not been hitting on all cylinders the day before.
Starbucks was empty when I got there, so I huddled with all four employees and none of them remembered my Kindle at all. One guy went back in the back and checked again: they did not have it. Oh well, it had been a long shot. I popped across the street, and one of the Asian nail technicians came right to the front desk and pulled out my glasses. No surprise there. Then she reached in again and pulled out my Kindle. I left both there and only remembered my glasses. I had been sure I read my black feminism article while I ate my sandwich and drank my flat white, but no! I had done that while my nails dried. I must have played on my phone over lunch. Oh, well, all's well that ends well but I need to be more careful with my belongings. MUCH more careful, she vowed, for the hundredth time. FanSee