I Can Type.

Surgeon visit was today. I should never look at a picture and assume the person will look that good, because he didn't. The surgeon wasn't nearly as hot as the picture presumed he was.

Oh, well. There were better things to worry about today. I'm getting surgery on the 15th of January. I will be in a CAST for 6 weeks.

Mom and I about this point were giving each other terrified looks of, "Holy hell. Cast 6 weeks. Might as well take the semester off if that's going on."

But then the surgeon said something that was music to my ears. "You will be able to type."

HA! So what if there's a cast? So what if I'm in it for 6 weeks? If I can type, then my problems are fairly well solved. My whole PROBLEM with this thing was not being able to function in school for 6 weeks.

I only expressed several dozen worries about other stupid things:

1. How do I wear a shirt with a cast on from elbow to wrist?
2. Middle of winter here. Freezing cold. How do I wear a COAT?
3. Showering?
4. Writing on it?
5. My major worry, being me: What if I clonk someone with it?

Of course, these problems will probably fix themselves along the way, but STILL.

I went to the orthodontist and as I had thought, the damn retainer didn't need fixing. I only snapped the right lower back section off of it and it didn't need anything. I knew this already. If I lived with the problem for 6 months already then it was probably fine.

SO, that was my long and tiring day away. Talk to y'all soon.

Ta,
Bec

Home Today, Gone Tomorrow

So my last two days at home have been uneventful. The tree is lying in the middle of the living room floor, dropping needles everywhere on the carpet. Dad hasn't gotten round to putting it up yet.

I wrapped up my presents to everyone else yesterday.

They're all going to church-I went last night.

Spritey's throwing a fit in the kennel because she senses that she's getting left out of something again. She refuses to let this slide, and so she's complaining for everyone to hear.

Between the minty hippos, the rubber chicken up in the living room light fixture, the stuffed tiger with elf ears, and Anna stressing out over small things that really don't matter that much, I think I may have gone off into the Twilight Zone.

Oh, and forgot to mention that I kicked butt at Yahtzee yesterday, despite the outward appearance that I was losing half the time.

Gotta go. Spritey's "talking" in the kennel and what's she's saying isn't very nice.

Ta,
Bec

Who Schedules Finals At 8 IN THE MORNING?

Since I'm leaving town at a ridiculously early hour after an even earlier final, this is my last entry from Eau Claire. I'll try and write from home tomorrow, if Mom lets me. I'm about to go in the FRAGILE-DON'T DROP box and I'm not looking forward to it.

Ta,
Bec

Arguing

8:00 AM: I start a fight by daring to call just as the clinic is opening. I get information on who I was supposed to see in the first place and who I'm supposed to be seeing now. They're both busy. I get told to call back at 11:30.

Argument 1: Tie. I get some of what I want but not everything. They rope me into calling them back later.

11:30 AM: I finally got through to the hand surgeon's nurse, and we spend 15 minutes negotiating like warring countries on a truce line. It turns out that the hand surgeon is gone on vacation exactly when I want stuff done. Oh, well. How about consultation? I can't do today, and he can't do Thursday or Friday. Can we do Monday? Not that early, buddy. Not 9 in the morning. How about 11? 11 is perfect.

So, having wrangled a peace treaty with the God of Schedules, we agreed and broke for drinks and cocktails. At least the doctor is good-looking...

Argument 2: Tie again. I get some of what I want but still not everything. They get me next week, asking a bucketload of questions and demanding to know when I'll be back to normal.

Oh, and to add to the FUN, the hand surgeon might not be able to do my surgery till the 13TH of January. That leaves me 10 DAYS to start getting back to normal before second semester starts.

Aren't we going to have a jolly time?

I have sworn that if Mr. Cute Hand Surgeon can't do the job when I want it done, I will gladly go to Mr. Not Cute Hand Surgeon and HE can do it.

Let me put it this way:

A) I am not a pushover.
B) I want results.
C) Preferably by the end of the year.
D) I don't care how cute he is, if he can't do the surgery when I need it done, due to my crazy psycho college lifestyle (filled with smoking, drinking, and jumping into the iced-over river at 2 in the morning) then I will go get the Highschool History Teacher Lookalike to do it.

Ta,
Bec

One Day To Go

Having migrated a final from Friday to Tuesday (and going through a lot to get it there) I found out today that the surgeon I was supposed to consult with on Friday wants me to see somebody else. My appointment has been cancelled.

Yay me. I get out of here a day early and I don't even have a reason for it anymore.

Bought one more Christmas present today and I'm getting the last one tomorrow morning.

Still hurting, of course, and not much else is going on so night.

Ta,
Bec

Lazy Sunday

Spent most of the day with a friend, and we watched movies all day. I'm tired and of course, still achy, so I'm going to take some painkillers and go to sleep.

Ta,
Bec

Sore

I can tell the cortisone shot is wearing off now. My pain's getting a little worse every day. Figures. I'll be in a right state by next week.

Nothing happened today. Nothing. Boring, boring, boring.

That's it. Wrist hurts again. Stupid painkillers don't work anymore.

Ta,
Bec

Rather Quiet Day

Compared to the last two wild, crazy, manic days, this one was fairly quiet. Not much is going on in the world. I'm listening to The Rasmus and getting the crap scared out of me by the music...didn't expect violins.

David Tennant's spine is fixed and he's getting back to normal. He went and slipped a disc last week and they've just put him back together. I sent him a get-well message via forum board. His understudy apparently is managing things all right, but then again the poor guy isn't David Tennant and that's causing there to be some empty seats at the theater. People had their tickets to Hamlet to see David Tennant and aren't showing up for the performances where he's not. I'd still go see Patrick Stewart and Oliver Ford Davies...they're there, too!

My wrist is aching from the typing so that's all I have to report.

Ta,
Bec

And the Verdict IS:

YES.

I DID tear something. My triangular fibrocartilage is torn (see helpful picture above) and needs repairing. Hand surgeon appointment is next week Friday.

I'm not really too freaked out; I sort of knew this was coming.

Au revoir Christmas break...and Winterim class...and an actual vacation...

Ta,
Bec

Nothing Yet

It's nearly 11 at night, my wrist is killing me due to a backup of fluid on the back of my hand, and there's no report yet.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Ta,
Bec

Tomorrow Morning

I have to get up at a ridiculous hour for my appointment tomorrow. Joyous.

I have a story to edit and I should get started (hint: I should have ALREADY started but I was watching Hyacinth climbing over a wall in a fancy dress and a hat trying to avoid Elizabeth finding out where her sisters really live (dirty council estate-shameful to Hyacinth's eyes.) Can you blame me?)

I should go work on this thing.

Ta,
Bec

Ree-Chard!

Currently watching British comedy and laughing my ass off. The lead character, Hyacinth, reminds me very much of my hypochondriac, oblivious grandmother. She terrifies everyone and is always trying to be something she's not, even when she's busy being humiliated by her family and everyone else around her.

Her husband is long-suffering. Poor Richard. She couldn't have been so bad when he married her, otherwise he wouldn't have. She's stuffy and oblivious and nasty.

Plus she looks like my grandmother. Even dresses like her. It's terrifying and funny all at the same time.

I didn't get anything done today, despite my resolution to finish stuff this weekend. I am really, really going to have to push it tomorrow to finish some of this stuff so I can have an easier week.

I will pay for my laziness. This I swear.

Ta,
Bec

One Hell of A Thursday

SO, we start off the day at 8 AM. I am supposed to call the radiology dept. to ask them if I can eat and tell them I have a tattoo on that wrist.

But I wind up the phone call by having my MRI moved all the way over to WEDNESDAY of next week (the tech who does the contrast dye is GONE) and feeling excessively angry about everything in life. I called Wausau and let them know that things had gone screwy, then I called Mom and let HER know that things had gone screwy.

By 8:30, the good mood that I'd woken up with had evaporated.

My cup was cracked at breakfast, dripping drink out the bottom of the glass. I nearly slipped on the ice on the way into the science hall.

Arthur Dent, I feel your pain. I, too, don't get the hang of Thursdays.

That and the BRACE is itching and I want to take it off again, but I know better because even a few minutes without it and my arm begins to ache.

Allow me ten seconds of hatred for the thing...

i hate this brace i hate this brace
iwant to rip it into little pieces
and toss them in the river...

ah.

i feel better.

back to what I was saying. My appt. has been moved to next week Wednesday at an ungodly hour of the morning. I am not happy about this, not in the least, but what can I do about it?

Meanwhile, I have to wear this thing another 6 days. Oi.

Not much else to say. I have to get doing other things, so I'll write again soon.


Ta,
Bec