Three Months Post Op

This week I had my three month post-op appointment with my doctor. I was nervous. Super nervous. My last appointment, when I was told my bone wasn't healing quite like he expected, was frustrating. So I was nervous about this one. If my bone still wasn't healing, I'd have to get a bone growth stimulator. I told my hand therapist I was nervous. She wasn't, she said, because the pain I'd had during the first eight weeks of healing had subsided. She was optimistic. I was trying to keep that in mind.

So, Monday, I went in. I was running late. I had four X-rays done. My doctor, who I really adore, came in and told me he was happy with how it was healing. On the printouts of the X-rays, he showed me the indicators of healing and explained that on the digital image, he was able to see the knitting together of the bone. It was then I didn't realize I was holding my breath.

He pointed to my splint on the table and said, "I don't know if you're still wearing that, but you don't need to anymore."

Seriously, y'all, it was like a record scratch stop in my head. I was just like, "What? Like, right now? Forever?" Yes, he said. "But be smart about it."

I kept going:

Me: What about the gym?" Dr: "Nope, don't need it. But be smart about it."
Me: "Do I have a weight limit?" Dr: "Nope, But be smart about it. Start low."

Honestly, I was overwhelmed. I've been wearing a splint since October 2018. To just one day be able to stop? It was hard to comprehend. More than I ever imagined. At one point, I was like, "I think I'm going to cry," as my eyes began to tear up.

During my appointment, probably no less than five times, I'd point to my splint and ask, "I really don't have to wear that thing anymore?" He's just smile and say, "Nope.

We talked about continuing hand therapy and building the strength in my left had. The two weeks before I saw him, I began to have some sharp pains in my left wrist. My hand therapist and I both think it's from overcompensation, but she wanted me to bring it up with him. He agrees. He said we'd watch it, but once I began to build the strength in my left wrist and arm, the pain would subside. If my right wrist was where my left one was six months ago, he said it would be a different conversation.

I go back in eight weeks for my final follow up.

I've been wearing a splint since Oct 2018. These are the two I have been wearing since Dec 2018. I wore the purple one for just shy of a year. 

Since then, I've been to the gym and working with my trainer. Monday night we tried a few things to see what I could do. Tuesday night I went back to my strength training class for the first time since Thanksgiving. I used 2.5 and 3 pound weights. Wednesday I did deadlifts with five pounds weights on a bar. Thursday I did deadlifts and overhead presses with seven pounds on a bar. It was amazing how quickly I was able to move up in weight without pain.

I am being careful--smart--about it. I test out new weights and movements. There are still some things I can't quite do yet. I still use my left arm like a club. The range of motion in my left wrist still needs work, but now I can move my wrist whenever I want.

I can't even put into words how great this all feels. Honestly. It's almost overwhelming.

I still have work to do, but it all seems so much more achievable now.

I have a collection of sleeves that I wore under my splints. I had some I wore at night, some I wore to the gym, and some I wore during the day. I'm going to wash them all and put them away. Hopefully forever. 

On Women and Politics

I grew up in a political household. By that I mean politics were discussed. We watched the news, we read the newspapers. We were informed. I was encouraged to have opinions and state them. Speaking my mind was never an issue.

Thing is, the 2016 election? It pretty much killed me. I was a hardcore Hillary Clinton supporter. At least I was during that election. In 2008? I was Team Obama from the second I saw him speak at the 2005 ALA Annual as the keynote. It was evident from that moment that he would be president and I would be on his team. And I was. From the beginning.

But in 2016? Team Hillary. It was her time. During the 2016 DNC, when she was nominated? I cried. No, I bawled. I watched it on YouTube in my car, sobbing. It wasn't until that moment that I realized how long I had waited to see a woman in that position. I hadn't realized how important it was to me. And when she lost? I felt like the country was telling me that as a woman, I didn't matter.

I don't know if I would've felt that way if she hadn't been running against Donald Trump, a a man so disgusting and filthy he doesn't even attempt to hide his misogyny. I mean, I was one of the few Democrats who thought Bill Clinton had no respect for women and wasn't willing to give him a pass on his affair with Monica Lewinsky, because, c'mon.... But Trump was, is, and always be a racist, misogynistic jackhole. So, a woman losing to him? A woman so much more qualified? It hurt.

And since then, I have pretty much removed myself from politics. I rarely talk about it. I don't read much about it. I can't. It's pure denial. I live in a blue town in a blue state and I can ignore it. I know not everyone can. but I wouldn't be able to function if I didn't ignore it.

Fast forward to the current primaries. I didn't know who I supported. I liked things about all of the candidates. I liked Elizabeth Warren. I like Kamala Harris. I like Buttigieg. But I wasn't sure. And as time passed, I still wasn't sure who I would vote for. And then Warren took out Bloomberg at the Vegas debates, and I was 150% Team Warren, almost immediately.

And then everyone else started dropping out. It was obvious why. The moderates knew if they didn't, they'd split the vote with Biden. But the worst part of the primaries? How badly Warren was doing. I mean, she was losing to fucking Mike Bloomberg. Elizabeth Warren, an incredibly intelligent, competent, and qualified candidate was losing to a fucking Bloomberg.

It became apparent she would have to drop out, there was no way she could keep going. But what I didn't expect was how much her suspending her campaign would hurt. And it wasn't just that Warren had to quit, it was that am incredibly intelligent, competent, and qualified woman had to quit.

It was a kick in the gut, in the teeth, in the heart. And it fucking hurt. It was knowing that, once again, the country was rejecting a woman for.... well, for two inferior candidates. It was hard not to take it personally. Because, once again, it felt like a big chunk of this country was rejecting me and every other woman out there just because we were women.

A friend, a former prof, posted on his Facebook that he was tired of telling his daughter that she'd have to wait (for a woman president).

My response? I'm tired of waiting.