In my last post, a badly bruised wrist. After a full two weeks, my wrist was still too weak to lift a dinner plate of food, so I took it along to the surgery to have the nurse check it out. She passed me on to the doctor, who explained to me about the scaphoid bone, the size of a cashew nut, at the base of the thumb, which was often a casualty in this kind of fall. It has a very poor blood supply, apparently. I needed an x-ray to check this out.
We went to the local community hospital where I had my first ever X-ray. Very efficient. Results would be sent to my GP urgently. Uh, oh, I thought.
The GP rang the next morning to confirm that, although the scaphoid had escaped, there was a compression fracture of the radius. I would need an appointment with the local Fracture clinic. Two days later, another call: I was to go to A&E instead, as it was a 3-4 week wait for the fracture clinic. I was wearing a light splint bought from the chemists.
At A&E, the triage nurse did suggest that after three weeks it was probably healing itself, but we went through the standard procedure of applying a large plaster cast to my lower arm, down to my knuckles. The triage nurse began by knocking over the bucket of hot water on a wheeled stand, flooding the room.. She needed to be there as the nurse applying the plaster had not done one for five years and needed close instruction. It was fine, but rather cumbersome. I feared that things might get worse still once the specialist had seen it.
A&E had lived up to expectations in that, while I was waiting, a large individual had been brought in handcuffed to a somewhat smaller policeman, and with another guarding. And this was only 10am.
I was given an appointment with the Fracture Clinic for the following Monday. Here, the orthopaedic specialist took a pair of scissors to the giant cast and sent for a light splint, on the grounds that it was probably healing already. I trotted out of that hospital feeling as if Spring had come all at once: no operation to re-set the break, no heavy cast for six weeks, just a splint, not dissimilar to the one the chemist had sold me.
And this is what left-handed knitting looks like. It turns out that it is still possible to knit with a wrist fracture, and even with a huge plaster cast.
We went to the local community hospital where I had my first ever X-ray. Very efficient. Results would be sent to my GP urgently. Uh, oh, I thought.
The GP rang the next morning to confirm that, although the scaphoid had escaped, there was a compression fracture of the radius. I would need an appointment with the local Fracture clinic. Two days later, another call: I was to go to A&E instead, as it was a 3-4 week wait for the fracture clinic. I was wearing a light splint bought from the chemists.
At A&E, the triage nurse did suggest that after three weeks it was probably healing itself, but we went through the standard procedure of applying a large plaster cast to my lower arm, down to my knuckles. The triage nurse began by knocking over the bucket of hot water on a wheeled stand, flooding the room.. She needed to be there as the nurse applying the plaster had not done one for five years and needed close instruction. It was fine, but rather cumbersome. I feared that things might get worse still once the specialist had seen it.
A&E had lived up to expectations in that, while I was waiting, a large individual had been brought in handcuffed to a somewhat smaller policeman, and with another guarding. And this was only 10am.
I was given an appointment with the Fracture Clinic for the following Monday. Here, the orthopaedic specialist took a pair of scissors to the giant cast and sent for a light splint, on the grounds that it was probably healing already. I trotted out of that hospital feeling as if Spring had come all at once: no operation to re-set the break, no heavy cast for six weeks, just a splint, not dissimilar to the one the chemist had sold me.
And this is what left-handed knitting looks like. It turns out that it is still possible to knit with a wrist fracture, and even with a huge plaster cast.
This is a miniature blanket for the local premature baby unit.
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2 comments:
Shandy, what an experience! Sounds painful. I am amazed you can still knit. I've recovered from tendonitis in my wrist but arthritis at the base of my thumb will be bothersome forever I think. Heal well and stay well and knit on.
What a nice little blanket you worked up under duress. Brava for making some really nice lemonade out of that particular lemon you received. I realize this isn't a very good analogy, but these are difficult times...
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