medical update: the broken wrist

Sure enough.
Mother's intuition.
Six weeks in a cast. Occasional pain.
Not healed.




Youngest was very, very happy to have the filthy, smelly, cracked and disgusting cast cut off.
I love this doctor. Soft spoken and gentle with a quiet way about him. This is small potatoes. (Do you say that where you live? Small potatoes?)
So, the cast came off, we gave Youngest plenty of time to wash his wrist and exfoliate as much as he could and they took lots of x-rays. He had lost a lot of mobility, it looked pretty gruesome to me. We had a sit-down and a wait. The doctor consulted with his partner and they agreed.
Six more weeks in a cast.
I think if it doesn't look better in another six weeks, well, that'll be three months and we may have to do a little something, he said, making a screwing motion with his hand. A bone graft with a couple of screws.
He asked me if I'd been on the internet and, fearing reprisal, I said no. I'm not sure I have googled bone death, honestly. But that's what he's watching for. A ct-scan in August, maybe. We'll see.




The washing up felt pretty good. The realization that he'll have a cast in Japan was a little tough.


 

But they had black plaster wrap this time and that cheered him slightly.

They just make a small incision here and graft some bone from this part of your arm - it's curved just right and fits perfectly. He worked the plaster wrap around the PS3 controller that we brought with us - as he has before. I just wanted to hug him, the doctor. He's just so nice. In truth it was Youngest and me who could have used the hug, probably.




I'm going to buy him some nifty things to wear in Tokyo.
He's going to have the trip of a lifetime.

Lucky indeed, but it tugs at my heart a little.