I went to the orthopedic doctor this morning. We got there early, like we were supposed to, and I filled out a couple sheets of paperwork. I wasn't even done when I was called back. (Daddy was with me.) 

The lady took my blood pressure (I guess that's SOP for most doctor visits)--it t'went bad neither 117 over 70-something. 78, I think, but I can't really remember. She took my splint off, too. After she went out, the young intern/med student (whose name I cannot remember; he was pretty nice though) came in and asked a few questions and poked and prodded my arm a little bit. Then he had me bend my wrist! I wasn't expecting that, but went along. I quit the bending when it got painful, even though I could have pushed it through. (I don't think that would have been wise and he really wasn't asking for that.) He took his report out to Dr. E...who soon came in. All 6 foot+ of him.

It took literally moments before he and Daddy were swapping Army stories. Turns out Dr. E is a 24 year-Army vet! And I don't know how he knew I was born at Ft. Bragg--but he did...

Anyway, he took us into the hall so I could see my x-rays (because I had mentioned that I wanted to see them) and then lead us off through a bit of a maze (one could get lost in the OD until they got used to it) so he could take one more shot.

As it turns out, my radius is broke right about where the head starts to neck down and it's clear through. Not just a fracture. It's slightly impacted--and I even think I saw bit of a gap along the opposite side from the impacted area. Anyway, Dr. E said I'm right on the verge of needing surgery. So...I go back on the 22nd for a follow up. He seems to think I'll be fine. ;)

AND...I am so tickled that I got a removable cast!

Look at the bend he put into it. I'm guessing that while he shaped that thing across his knee (with my arm within), chatting with Daddy, he really wasn't ignoring me or what he was doing (I know he wasn't because at one point when I let out some variety of grunt, he said, "You can say 'uncle', you know.") I'm also guessing that the deep bend is not so much to keep my tendons stretched (though it will help come time for therapy), but to put an amount of...eh, what's the word I want? An amount of...counter-pressure (?) on the impacted part.

You may be wondering why, as it is Wednesday, that I am writing of Monday's adventures. Eh...that's a story we'll get to in a few moments, so bear with me. ;)

Monday I worked some on getting stuff out of Savannah's room and back into mine--I pulled all my yarn out of the dresser that isn't going back into my room and packed it into several Vitacost boxes. Mmmhhhm...I need to knit a little more. (I recently sold a pair of socks via my Etsy shop, so I do actually move the things from time to time!) Anyway, between boxing up the yarn and putting it on my new shelves and arranging my hat collection on the same said shelving, that is about all I got done in the morning. Very sad, I know--but we are such terrible slow-pokes in the mornings!

Well, I drafted back upstairs some time after lunch and piddled about a little more til I decided that I would turn my attentions to my "foot-locker" (actually a covered wooden box). I planned, ever since hauling it north from Florida that I was going to eventually strip off the old covering and recover it...or something. "Well," thought I, "now is as good a time as any. I'm more likely to get it done if I do it before I put it back into my room."

Following this line of reasoning, I pulled it's contents out (costumes and various reenacting and/or prop gear) and hauled the greatly lightened box to the garage where I began pulling staples and tiny nails. After I took the hinges off, that is.

I whipped out my pocket knife and started cutting off the vinyl material. Almost as soon as I began cutting, I started to get just a little excited....

Let me step back a moment and explain that I assumed that Grandmother had covered this box in the early to mid-sixties due to the apparent age of a particular relative who had scrawled her name in crayon on the back of it. It clearly had been the kids toybox.

Anyway, as the vinyl came off, I discovered that Grandmother had first covered the box with newspaper and then the brown material. It was the newspapers that got me excited.

I don't suppose it was even so much the newspaper at first as the date on it. She had used portions of the November 1, 1953 edition of the Miami-Herald to cover this box. Notably, the sports pages and some ads.

1953.

Grandmother and Granddaddy did not meet until 1958. So--this box had been covered not only a rough decade before the time I assumed it had, but even before my grandparents first laid eyes on each other! Things like that kind of give me a variety of jitters. I suppose Anne of Green Gables would define that as a "thrill". ;)

I took pictures of most of the newspaper, thinking that some of my friends might enjoy looking at the old ads in particular.

About this time, I decided to go take care of the chickens in my normal evening routine. I'll leave you there for the moment and finish the box story. It was determined after Daddy pulled the cardboard out of the bottom and uncovered--mold--that we should just pitch it. Well, bummer, but okay. I'm all for getting rid of mold infested "things".

Anyway, back to the chickens. Some of y'all already know where this is headed, but another telling hurts nothing. ;)

I had already fed the layers and collected the eggs and moved on out to feed the meat birds. I cleared out the first tractor and bent my knees and back into the heave-ho routine. I had perhaps another three feet to go when the strap's s-hook slipped off the PVC frame (I've never had this happen before). Naturally, as I was in mid-pull, I went sailing backwards into the clover. I landed primarily on my right leg/side and that didn't hurt much. BUT (you knew that was coming, didn't you?) somehow, with the left arm all rag-doll floppy, I whacked my left wrist into the ground. My palm was facing the ground, but also tilted up a bit...rather like a shallow 'v' if you were looking at my arm and hand from the side. Anyway, the wrist hit first and as I rolled into a sitting position, I knew. 

My wrist had gone immediately stiff. 

It didn't really hurt, but I knew before I got to my feet that I'd just broke a bone for the third time in five years. 

I'm actually still in the splint they put on me at Med-Express (faster and cheaper than the ER--probably nicer too :] ). I go to see an orthopedic doctor tomorrow morning before lunch. I admit that I am slightly disappointed that I couldn't view the x-rays on my computer--wrong file type. I like looking at the x-rays so that I can really see the break--but I was informed that it was just the radial bone--clear across. I guess I must have bashed it just right...

SO...anyway. I'm just grateful that I cracked the ol' left wrist rather than busting the right one again!!

You wouldn't know it though...it's the first of November here in the North and it's over 70* outside! We even have the windows hanging open...

Anyway, I didn't start this post to talk about the weather...or the fact that "The Holly and the Ivy" just popped up next on my Spotify playlist (it's not actually a Christmas playlist--it just happens to have one Christmas album on it). Rather, I wanted to talk about something that I live with on a day-to-day basis. My health.

As you all know (unless you are a very, very new reader here!), I have Chronic Lyme and Toxic Mold issues. I got to thinking about "things" yesterday and thought I'd give y'all a bit of an update.

I still have bad days fairly regularly. In fact, in this week so far (counting Sunday as Day 1), I've had one bad day out of three. Yesterday, I didn't feel well. I have yet to think of a more accurate description than "not feeling well"--even when there is no pain and I cannot pin-point any particular spot that's out of whack. It was one of those days were I felt really tired, emotionally strained (if anyone had raised their voice at me I would have started to cry), my noise and light sensitivity was heightened (particularly the audio-sensitivity) and I wasn't too sharp in the head.

Sounds dreadful, I suppose--and to a degree it is. But I'm not moping over it, but rather encouraged. Why? When I still have symptoms and trouble?

I'll tell you why. It's because--despite the brain-fog, I was able to read a letter I got from a friend. I was able to read a little more in "April's Revolution" (a book on antebellum and Civil War medical systems) and digest the information.

That's an improvement from earlier this year.

I'll tell you more. I was able to peel the tomatoes Mama asked me to do. 

I was able to make supper. 

I was able to move the chicken tractors by myself. 

Perhaps that doesn't sound like much, but the fact that I was, despite my fatigued, almost depressed feeling, able to do "normal" functioning thing like stand at a stove and cook (probably even could have come up with the menu myself if Mom hadn't made a few wonderful suggestions as I was making my way to the kitchen) is good. It's encouraging. It's happy.

And I'm in good enough shape today to actually see this. :)

Well y'all...I need to go get the kitchen cleaned up from lunch....and maybe, just maybe, I can get this little jacket finished today!