Two months ago I was carrying a sleeping Merry to bed and doing my level best not to wake her in the process. In doing so, I twisted my wrist just so and both heard and felt (OUCH) a distinct pop as I lay her down. I figured it was a simple sprain so carried on for a few days until it became uncomfortable enough to send me to the doctor (over a holiday weekend, of course).
One urgent care visit, a terribly uncomfortable brace. two sets of x-rays, referral to an orthopedist (twice) resulting in two more uncomfortable and mostly useless wrist braces, then FINALLY an MRI which led to a diagnosis of a peripheral TFCC tear of the right (dominant hand, of course) wrist. I was referred to a hand surgeon who, in a last ditch effort to avoid a surgery which may or may not even work, kindly (HA!) gave me a cortisone shot AND a referral to physical therapy for yet another brace (custom made this time).
That cortisone shot? That was done on Thursday afternoon. It hurt more than anything EverEverEver hurt. A giganto needle right in the upper wrist, moved in, out, and around for good measure, smack where the MRI shows the worst of the injury.
OMG, that injection still hurts. I ended up working(ish) from home on Friday because it pretty much hurts to do anything. Like, you know, moving. Or typing. Or heck, even eating since it involves bending your wrist to get food to your mouth. Ice is my friend. I’d like to say rest is my friend as well, but yeah. No. I have two kids and a job. A prescription for rest in those circumstances is kind of a really mean joke.
And that is why my first post in about a hundred years – Day 1 of NaNoBloMo – is very short and very whiny. The surgeon assures me that the cortisone will kick in soon so I’m hoping future posts are longer/better/more thoughtful than what you get today because my wrist says that I am now done with typing for at least one more day.
As we were leaving Ikea we stopped to grab an ice cream cone on the way out. Heading toward the door with our cones we walked past another family with Caucasian parents and 2 Chinese daughters. I thought I would take advantage of the opportunity to (discreetly) point out another family who looked like ours to my 6 year old.
Her response? “No they don’t. They don’t have ice cream cones.”
A good reminder/illustration for me that not everything is about adoption every minute of every day. Sometimes it really is just about ice cream with your family – whatever they look like.
Merry woke up this morning with The Mark of A Beast on her forehead.
Beast = Ava
Dinosaur stamp. Bright Orange. Dead center.
(J is no longer qualified to watch children unattended.)
Still alive. Lots in my head that I’d like to say but I seem to have lost my voice ~ my ability, my motivation, my whatever ~ to get it out of my head and into a more lasting medium.
The girls are doing great but its been a rough year with several unexpected (and unpleasant) events so far. My family is struggling to find our new normal after the unexpected loss of J’s mom, my mother-in-law, and my girls’ grandma. We’re mostly faking it until we make it right now. We hear it gets better with time so we’re clinging to that hope.
Really, I do. But it is just.so.hard to find the time.
I have pictures from Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas – and they are all still on the camera. Not even one has been downloaded to my Mac.
I have things I want to say – but they are all trapped in my brain unless they can be used as a short status update on Facebook.
Happy New Year! There, at least I got that out.