Complain, Complain

23 Sep

Saturday night was just about unbearable, and I called the answering service before we went to church, saying I wanted to discuss the pain and swelling with someone as soon as possible, so I would leave the cell phone on vibrate during service. When we arrived, Fr. M, who is a paramedic, took one look at my hand, went for his sick call set, and gave The Squire and me Communion in his office. He then chased us out the door with a broom and told us to go to Patient First or the ER.

I called the answering service back and left another message.

Neither the clinic nor the ER were able to help me. The hand needed to be re-cast; one was unable to do it and the other unwilling. Came home and called the answering service twice more. So much for 24 hour service.

The doctor’s office called at 9:05 on Monday morning – yesterday – and I was given a 1:00 appointment. We arrived at 12:45, and were back home before 1:30. The doctor did re-cast my arm, and the new cast, having been put on over the swollen knuckles, is much more comfortable.  Although my thumb is still immobilized, my fingers are completely free, which has a great psychological benefit. I am able to make a fist, and the exercise has brought down the swelling considerably.  At any rate, I was able to sleep last night, and so was The Squire. Poor man. It can’t be easy, having your bed-mate popping up and down all night long.

I had my choice of colors for the plaster wrap, and chose green; it will match the liturgical season! I’ll be in this blessed thing until late October, so might as well make the best of it.

Went up and did the wash this morning, and I was able to help The Squire get it all on the line. Frankly, I think I was more ornamental than anything else.  I’m useless at fixing meals, too, as I can’t even manage a can opener. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

My mother would have a stroke over the way that man hangs up clothes. (Well, if I did it, she’d object, but him? She’d think it’s cute.) However, I have learned over the years that panties dry just as well hung from a single clothespin as they do from two, and take up a lot less line space. Two napkins, smoothed together and folded over the line don’t have to be ironed, and don’t have clothespin marks. At least, he’s never tried to hang a round tablecloth by its center, as one of my relatives used to do. Have you any idea who hard it is to set a table when the center resembles a wizard’s hat?

The Squire and I managed to get me in and out of the shower without too much hassle, but getting my hair washed involved going to the salon. Do you know what they want just to wash your hair? Yeesh. We are not going to be able to do this twice a week for the next month.  It was Local Granddaughter’s mother-in-law, and I don’t think she would have charged me, but the shop manager rang up The Squire’s haircut and then looked at mother-in-law so she could put me in the register. Better luck next time. He can stay in the car or something.

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