I can’t say that I remember a lot from fifth grade – the first time around, at least. I do remember that Mrs. Willson seemed like she was at least 80 or something; I do remember getting in trouble for cheating (when all I did was turn around & ask the kid behind me if he was done with the test – is that a felony, or something???), and I do remember the red-haired girl that I was crazy about.
Never fear, however, since I get to relive each grade once more through my kids. My son is never going to be exactly famous for his study skills, so I spend a lot of time doing review with him. As a consequence I’ve become so expert on American history from pre-Revolutionary times up to the Civil War that I can almost help him study just from what’s in my head. At finals time I reviewed a list of 33 vocabulary terms with him without any notes, and he said, “Dad, how do you know all these things?” I refrained from asking him how it was that he didn’t know any of them, but I did let him know that, having reviewed it many times, I was pretty clear on at least that much of history.
He also spent much of his science year reviewing the systems of the body, which came in handy recently. Did you know that your joints can be classified into categories? Your shoulder and hip are ball-and-socket joints; the knee and elbow are hinge joints; the neck is a pivot joint; and the ankle and wrist are called glide joints. This last type is particularly complicated, because it’s designed to allow the bones involved to slide past each other. The wrist is especially involved, bringing a bunch of small bones together and permitting the hand to move in not-quite-but-almost-limitless directions.
In the ideal world, at least. If you ever want to be totally aware of all the marvelous things the wrist can do, one way – maybe not the recommended way – is to injure one and discover all the things you’re completely unable to do. I had been having soreness in my right wrist for several weeks – through hauling suitcases on vacation, and spending an entire day helping friends move – but then one night a couple weeks ago I was wrestling with something heavy when I felt a searing shot through it. I didn’t hear anything, exactly (apart from the sound of whimpering that seemed to come out of nowhere), but I knew right away I was In Trouble.
Now the injury was bad enough, but since then I’ve been subjected to something even more painful: Medical Care. This was complicated by the fact that I have historically done everything possible to avoid going to the doctor – or perhaps I should just say I’ve historically been male. I didn’t even have a doctor. So I chose a doctor (or actually, a nurse-practitioner; there are no primary care doctors any more) at the practice my wife has been using.
So I wrote my symptoms on the intake sheet, then I related them verbally to the nurse, which I guess is mostly rehearsal for telling the “doctor” all over again. You know, like preparing testimony. She had a notebook computer with symptom-digesting software, but in truth she diagnosed me as soon as I told her my job. As soon as she heard “computer”, she decided it was carpal-tunnel syndrome, despite the fact that the symptoms didn’t affect my hand at all and were the result of an injury.
Eventually I talked her down and she sent me down the hall for an x-ray. When the results came back, here’s the consultation I received: “It’s not broken. Buy a brace at the drugstore and see an orthopedist.” Thanks, symptom-digesting software, I probably could’ve figured that out on webmd.com.
The orthopedist they suggested said they could fit me in in a mere 12 days… but the more I thought about it, I wasn’t sure their recommendation carried that much weight. So I called another orthopedic practice and was able to get in just 2 days later.
I knew I was at home when the doctor (an honest-to-goodness M.D.) came in and said, “I’d shake your hand left-handed, but…” and held up his left arm to display his matching wrist brace. He poked my wrist and said, “It hurts right here, doesn’t it,” then took out his pen to draw a diagram of my wrist on the white paper cover. He showed me the ligament he believed I’d damaged and sent me right out to schedule an MRI.
Two days later I was in the MRI room wearing size XXL pajama bottoms (not mine, for those of you who haven’t seen me in awhile). I’ll admit I was naïve about the procedure; I’ve seen so many medical shows I’m at least qualified to operate symptom-digesting software, but I figured that since my body was fine – or so they tell me :-) – and it was just way out at the end of my arm we’re worried about, I could just… you know, sit in a chair and stick my hand in it.
Turns out they want you to be a tad more invested in it than that. So I ended up in the tube, flat on my stomach, with my hand straight over my head, for half an hour. And you know, as a professional computer programmer and a dedicated amateur reader and TV-watcher, I thought myself quite skilled at remaining motionless – but I certainly explored the limits of that when I was told not to move for 30 minutes. I was actually very relaxed about being in the machine, even with the cacophony, but I found that I had to concentrate hard every minute to keep from moving. Usually I have to concentrate hard to make myself move….
A couple days ago the results came back: I have an “injury”, which I took to mean a tear, to my TFCC (the ligament/cartilage in the ulnar, or outer, joint of the wrist). So now I have to meet with the hand guy to find out whether they’ll operate, or just stick me repeatedly with a needle.
Till then – and probably after then, and for almost 2 weeks so far – I am living the Braced Life. The injury has probably lessened by 10%per day, but of course that means my amount of progress has slowed. In its current state the wrist is pretty sound forward & back, but very touchy from side to side and rotation is not happening. The thing is, the wrist is designed to move all 3 ways more or less at once, and I quickly discovered that in everyday life there’s basically no such thing as moving on a pure forward/back axis. I can actually pick things up vertically – but as you raise the load, the wrist is always adjusting the angle… which, ow.
So I’m challenged in a lot of motions during the day: I’m learning to eat and brush my teeth left-handed, but nearly everything about driving is a minefield, and don’t even get me started about the shower. It’s possible my handwriting has improved, though.
The worst part, though, is that it’s probably going to be weeks or perhaps months before I’ll be able to serve as a parade Grand Marshal.
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