In an unexpected turn of events, and while enjoying a lovely morning in Dolores Park, I slipped and broke my wrist. I believe the medical term the x-ray technician used was “super broken”. I clutched my wrist to my body and tried not to vomit or pass out as we took a cab to the nearest ER, Davies Medical Center. It was dead quiet there, so I was seen almost immediately.
Above is my first x-ray, which I was made to understand shows that the tops of my radius and ulna are broken into more pieces than there are supposed to be, and that all those pieces are in the wrong place. I have to take their word for it, because I have no idea what I’m looking at (I was expecting something more like this).
They told me that everything being in the wrong place meant that they needed to stretch and bend and snap my arm back into place. I think my exact words were, “Cool. So how many drugs am I going to be on when that happens?” The answer turned out basically just to be a (much appreciated) local anesthetic injected around the bones and some intense hand holding courtesy of Chapman.
I don’t wanna brag, but the words “trooper” and “champ” were thrown around quite a bit. I’m waiting for my merit badge to arrive any day now.
Anyway, now I’m learning to live with a giant splint and only one functional hand. Chapman is much more involved in my hair styling than either of us ever imagined he would be. Let’s just say that the buns were not good. Now that we’re working on braiding, there’s a brighter glimmer of hope.
I’m typing this one-handed and trying not to get frustrated that doing anything in the Adobe suite without my left-handed key shortcuts is impossible. Also included in this post is a picture of my parents’ emotionally unstable cat, June, that I took when I was in Texas a few days ago for my friend Anna’s (lovely) wedding. She seemed Halloween-theme appropriate (the black cat, not Anna).