After the two weeks I went back to my Dr. to have the cast removed. I was going to graduate to a removable splint!
What to my surprise after the Tech. removed my cast was that he told me to go wash my arm. What? Once again my wrist was weak and ached with the loss of the support from the cast. I walked over to the sink, turned on the water to warm and looked down at the dry blood on the tape covering the incision area. I felt sick to my stomach honestly. Somehow I managed to remove the tape, wash my now naked wrist and remain standing. No fluffy towel to dry off with only stiff paper. Really wouldn't it be nice to provide a soft towel to blot the water off this expensive incision area?
I am told to go to the Physical Therapy department to have the splint made. I cradle my wrist as I make the walk hoping, please, that no one trips me on the way. It feels quite uncomfortable even with the Aleve I had taken prior to coming in anticipation of being in possible pain.
Jeff, one of the two P.T.'s has me sit down and speedily creates a splint that I swear he could do blindfolded. It isn't pretty that is for sure. I mean, I have a sleeve to put on my wrist that reminds me of a rolling pin cover. Next the ugly splint with wide velcro to hold it on. My new support. I make future appointments for the next phase of recovery...Physical Therapy. Torture treatment? Oh how I hope not. I make it to the car and sit for awhile. I begin to cry. I guess I needed a cry even if I want to blame it on the discomfort. I wonder how I am going to drive because of the pain. Time helps though. I pull myself together and start the car. Just get home is my mantra.
Four days later I went to my first P.T. appointment and Barbara worked on me. It wasn't as bad as I feared as at this appointment she did some measuring to see what flexibility I had post-cast. She gave me papers with new exercises I was to do 3 to 5 times a day after going through each of them with me. I can't say that I was liking all the different moves I was to do. When my wrist didn't like what I was moving it let me know quite clearly with a sharp pain. Each move was to be doing slowly and carefully. Following the exercises I was to ice my wrist as well.
Show and tell came the next morning as I removed my splint and the rolling pin cover. My Love and R. got to see how big my incision was for the first time. And it was much longer than I thought it would have been. They watched me grimace as I went through the routine. My Love cheered me on with so much positive praise as he cooked or washed dishes while I diligently stretched that tight wrist. I was swollen and bruised still which made it harder to do many of the moves. As a note though, each day all the homework does pay off. Little by little I have less discomfort from the stretches. More bend, less swelling, more rotation. I accept the scar easier as I massage it each time before I start working on my wrist with massage oil to help it heal by breaking up the scar tissue that lies beneath. I accept this which is something for me. Remember when it comes to blood, scars and icky pain I am a wimp.