Author Archives: Andrew

A Tale of Three Idiots

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I made the mistake of going out Christmas shopping last Saturday – I’d be happy to tell you what I bought but on the off-hand chance my wife drops in before Christmas the surprise would be spoiled.  Huge volumes of traffic everywhere which inevitably results in people driving like complete idiots.  Case in point:  on the left-turn light, the rocket surgeon in front of me pulls a U-turn across 4 lanes of McLeod Trail to end up stuck almost parallel to where he was only now he’s stuck in south-bound traffic instead of north-bound.

I complete my left-turn now behind a new Volvo wagon.  Half way up the street he flicks his left turn signal on and I’m thinking this guy has another 200 meters to go before the parking lot entrance is there and start moving to the right lane so as not to get stuck behind a guy trying to turn left across 2 lanes of Christmas shopping traffic, into a mall.  The Volvo inexplicably dekes to the right, its left signal still flashing before snapping back to the left to make a U-turn.  I abort my right lane transition as it appears unnecessary with this new trajectory of his.

As he swings left and I curse his stupid left-right-left maneuver (what’s with that – why must people use a slow-motion Scandinavian flick when they’re making a turn?) I can’t help but notice he’s talking on a cell phone.  He can’t help but notice he’s pulled into the path of an on-coming truck so he slams on the binders.  I am officially following too close at this point having anticipated a successful U-turn on his part.  Collision is imminent and thanks to his left-right-left he’s actually taking up more of the lane than if he’d just been going straight.  In what is best described as a fluke and instinct, I wrench the wheel to the right, hard right, and miss the Volvo by a butterfly’s breath but am now heading for a curb at speed.  I snap the wheel back to the left and feel the front end push in the gravel along the curb before pulling us back into safe(ish) territory.

Disaster averted, my wrist explodes in agony having been twisted and bent against all warning feedback and at that moment I’m convinced I’ve broken it further.  It occurs to me at this moment that had I not avoided him, it would have been me with the ticket for following too close.  The Third Idiot.

It feels like a lifetime since I’ve been for a ride.  I haven’t looked at the Rescue Bike in weeks and this weekend’s dump of snow isn’t doing anything to help that.  I’m still very torn of course – ride through the snow when the opportunities present themselves, or forego the studded tires and winter wear in favour of a reliable and predictable stationary trainer.  The battle rages on.  My legs and lungs are dying for a ride.

I had my two-week follow up session with the hand specialist last week.  This time I was prepared – I knew where I was going, I knew where to find parking and I knew where to pay.  Arriving early this time I managed to be in the reception area a solid twenty minutes early.  Know what that means?  You get to listen to the cast saws buzzing away for twenty minutes.  The waiting room was all but empty by the time I was finally called in and given a new waiting spot.  I was privileged to better hear the screaming, buzzing cast saws from my new perch but seemed no closer to the actual doctor who could be seen pacing back and forth across the open room avoiding eye-contact with any of the waiting patients.

Finally – the doc is in my cube.  He pokes at my metacarpal V – the “in-the-palm-pinkie” bone – and gets a confused look on his face.  Now I’m confused – this is supposed to be fairly routine.  “How long ago did you break it?” he asks, a quizzical look on his face.  “3 weeks” I answer, “it was a nice Thursday afternoon the day before Remembrance Day”.  He hems and haws for a moment before loading up my X-rays and then he understands.  Metacarpal V was broken and healed untreated 16 or more years ago.  I’m here for my problematic pisiform.  Or my triquetral…whichever.

He picks up my hand again and starts prodding with remarkable accuracy now that he’s back on track.  Yep – that’s the spot the really hurts when you jab your fingertip in there, thanks for reminding me of that.  Now that I’m fully awake and tuned in he reminds me again with a slightly less painful jab and the caution “this will continue to hurt for a long time”.  I’m not sure if he means the immediate pain he’s just inflicted or my wrist in general but I nod in understanding lest he jab me again.  “Three more weeks and I’ll see you again, and then we should be done” he says as he gets up.

And that’s it.  The entire session lasted less than 3 minutes, drawn out to such lengths thanks only to the slow computer pulling up my X-rays.  An hour off of work, fighting traffic and paying for parking for just a 3 minute visit.  Hardly seems worth it.  On the other hand he did manage to induce both an endorphin rush as he jabbed my broken bits and the knowledge that all is well (but the pain is going to haunt you indefinitely).  I’ll take what I can get.

I am oh-so-tired of this splint however.  I know – millions of people around the world would love to have an inexpensive, removable prosthetic device in place of a cast.  It’s convenient in that you can remove it for cleaning, so you can shower, to just let your arm breathe – and for all that I’m genuinely grateful.  It just doesn’t fit comfortably except in one or two resting positions, it makes “mousing” difficult though I do have both left and right mice on my computers, it makes typing difficult and most annoyingly of all, it makes picking up my kids a carefully executed maneuver.  Still – better than a cast…but a cast would get me out of dishes more effectively.  What?  I’m just saying… ;-)

Donut. A Hurtz Donut.

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A week later and nary a peep from me here.  It’s become somewhat difficult to write about riding when I’m not riding.  I’d feared this point when I started writing back in the summer, knowing that winter would arrive one of these days, putting an end to my daily dose of the bike.   It wasn’t winter that stopped me admittedly, but the timing couldn’t have been much better as the past week our weather has been miserable to say the least.

My visit to the hand surgeon on Wednesday was fairly uneventful.  I have a bone “flake” – thereby giving credence to the notion that I’m flaky.  This is not any old flake however – it’s a flake from the pisiform bone, complete with tendons still attached.  Or something like that.  The terminology used by the doctor escaped me to be fair, right up until this: “it will take a long time for the pain to go away”.

He poked and prodded my wrist, confirming the conclusion he’d already drawn looking at the X-ray.  He was kind enough to run through things a couple of time though – No pain here?  No.  No pain here?  No.  No pain here?  No.  Some pain here correct?  Yes.  And highest pain here.  The last one was more of a statement than a question.  This was good as the bolt of lightning shooting through my wrist, arm and brain at that moment obscured any more eloquent answer than “mmpphaarrrrgh”.  He seemed to take that as agreement though.

“A cast for 6 weeks is what we normally do” he proclaimed, “but if you’ll promise to be faithful and wear it all the time, we’ll put you in a splint instead”.  I nodded in agreement as he still had his thumb dangerously close to my flaky pisiform.  He ushered me off to the splint lab, spoke briefly with the tech, promised to come back with a card so I could make an appointment for a follow-up in two weeks.  He left and never returned with his promised card which left me a little disappointed.  Not to mention that after showing me how painful my wrist was and telling me I’d be suffering pain long into the future, there was no discussion about pain management.  Thankfully I had several  percs left from my trip to the emergency room.

The splint process was quick and painless but not fully covered under Alberta Health.  Half way through the process she remembers “oh yeah, the splint isn’t covered – you’ll have to pay for it”.  At $21 it didn’t exactly break the bank but it still caught me by surprise.  At any rate, the emergency room splint  was in fact more comfortable and more rigid but lacked the ability to be removed and re-installed.  It was also large enough to make typing a single-hand + single finger affair.  My new plastic splint makes my hand and arm sweat and is woefully uncomfortable but it has two advantages – I can remove it to wash it (and me) and it allows the use of most of my typing fingers.  There’s a catch though – because it’s all plastic and removable, it doesn’t really prevent me from doing the dishes any longer.  Ah well – was a nice break while I had it.

The Plastic Splint

In truth it feels pretty good these days.  I spent a couple of hours cleaning the kitchen and mopping the floor and that left me hurting a little, but not nearly as bad as earlier this week.  I’m no longer driven to distraction most of the time which means I can be at work and actually do something productive.  At least in theory.

I snuck out to the garage last night to grab some tools while hacking a KVM switch and took a moment to gaze wistfully at the Rescue Bike.  Of course I thought immediately about going for a ride.  I swung my leg over and grabbed hold of the bars, checking the fit of the splint to the grip.  Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your perspective) the absolutely freezing, miserable wind and snow made that  a wholly uncomfortable proposition and I quickly returned to the warmth of my basement.  Not without a firmly planted seed.  Must get some studded tires first.  And I bet I could ameliorate any of the more serious fitment issues with an application of my heat-gun and some patience…

This picture makes me imagine I have a neck brace too for some reason. Weird.

Much Ado about a Minor Emerg

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It’s 5:30 on a Saturday night and instead of enjoying a date-night with my wife, I’m sitting in the Emergency room.  I caved, no longer content to sit around the house complaining about my hand I’ve come to get a proper opinion.  I’d delayed taking any action beyond some (ineffective) Tylenol and my hand is displeased with that. The entire back of my hand is swollen and my range of motion is limited, not to mention painful.

Now 6:45 and they’ve had a cursory look and sent me off for X-rays. The three electronic X-rays took no more than 1 minute – more time to walk over there and back than to take them. Now it’s a game of hurry up and wait. And wait. Why do hospitals have the TV so loud?  This TV is so loud I can’t hear myself think.

7:30 8:00 now and in typical you-might-need-attention-but-you-aren’t-bleeding-from-the-neck fashion, I am still hanging out and waiting. A First-World Problem to be sure but a real damper for date-night just the same. I have run into an old co-worker who’s easing my boredom for a while, regaling me with tales of marital discord and the ensuing fight over the spoils of divorce. Nothing highlights the kindness of the human spirit better than a good-old-fashioned adulterous divorce. Nurse tells me I’m next. Here’s hoping.

I’m looking for a diagnosis along the lines of a dislocated wrist bone, some painkillers and a “go home and no washing dishes for a week”. I’m guessing this is unlikely. I don’t believe it’s broken however – a woman who came in behind me just left with a cast on.  I presume she was worse off than I, hence her quicker move into the ER, therefore it must not be broken.  I’m conflicted about this of course. If it’s not broken and I’m just being a whiner, send me home. Don’t make me spend a long-weekend Saturday night in a waiting room full of sick people so you can send me home half-way through the made-for-TV Tracey Gold special.

8:45 “Ah, you’re the fellow that fell of his bike”.  Yeah.  Well, no.  That’s inaccurate and misleading.  Did I have an accident while riding my bike?  Yes.  Did I fall off?  Uhm…no.  In fact how is that possible?  Well Doc, I was riding along the road when all of the sudden a car came out of nowhere honking it’s horn and spooking my bike.  It reared up on it’s back wheel and then bolted across the intersection and that’s when I fell off”.  No.  I did not fall off.  Quite the opposite really – my bike threw me violently to the pavement when I threatened to take it through the mud.

Apparently if the X-ray has a nifty arrow drawn on it, that's a bad thing.

9:00  It’s broken.  A small fracture they tell me.  Seems that sore spot I’ve been rubbing is sore because it’s broken.  A “wee break” he says.  Result?  Some percocet, a splint and a consultation with the hand surgeon.  Wait…what?  A surgeon?  Uhm…  Seems much ado for a “wee fracture”.  At least I don’t have to have a cast.

The staff have been great tonight too.  The nurses have been friendly and…hey wait…that looks like cast-making supplies on the tray in front of me.  That’s not cool.  Hopefully there’s some mistake.  I’ve managed to escape a cast despite a career in motorcycles and a propensity for pushing things – I don’t want to ruin my track record.  We’ll see.

Anyway, the staff – excellent.  First rate.  Despite being rather busy they’ve all been excellent.  I almost want to hang around and chat a while longer – date-night is flushed for this weekend and it’s late enough now the house is likely quiet.  No worries – I haven’t been splinted or cast or whatever it is they’re going to do.  I’m not going anywhere yet.

It seems a splint is “half a cast” and I’m getting one.  I didn’t understand at first as I watched the nurse wrap my arm up.  From palm to elbow it’s wrapped up and I’m thinking if this is half a cast, how big is a bloody cast?  Now I see – the splint is a fiberglass mold like a cast, but only on the bottom side of my arm.  Base layer, fiberglass support, top layer.  Glad it’s winter.  Almost all of the inconvenience of a cast (rigid and immobile) without the durability.  Splint stays on until after a visit with the surgeon.

So there we are, 5 hours, one lightly broken hand and an uber- fashionable splint later.  On the upside, I can’t get this splint wet so perhaps the “no dishes” thing might work out.  I’m guessing that’s not going to go over well at home.  I also see this putting the brakes (ha!) on my riding for the immediate future.  That and a lack of studded tires.  Or not…  In the meantime I’m going to drive home, get a percocet in me and get some sleep.  Right after I post this.