Few Humans Take Care of Their Own

It's been seven weeks since the surgery to repair my broken wrist. My radius now sports a metal plate held in place by eight screws--who knows how alarming this will be the next time I try to board a plane?--and the tip of my ulna is, as I understand it, a fairly independent entity. It does not grow back to the bone it broke from, but apparently anchors itself somehow through the development of a layer of... stuff. Whatever. In any case, that part of my wrist still bulges beyond the other swelling and is tender to the touch. It was very aggravated when I was still required to use a splint. Even getting my splint remodeled and then remade from scratch did not alleviate the problem. This week, I stopped using the splint. Now the ulna mostly only hurts when I do the exercise for regaining the ability to turn my hand palm-up or palm-down. My hand still does not rotate far enough to pour shampoo into, or to receive change. This exercise, like the others, consists of forcing it further than it will go, repeatedly. No pain, no gain.

I can pick up my hairbrush, but I cannot brush my hair.

I can form half of the letters of the deaf alphabet. The other half are excruciatingly painful.

I can put a key into the keyhole, but I cannot turn it to unlock the door or start the car.

I can usually get food onto the spoon, but I can't follow through and turn the spoon enough to get it into my mouth.

I can use the spatula to get mayonnaise out of the jar, but the slight rotation this requires is painful. I don't have the finger dexterity to turn the spatula over and get the mayo onto the bread; this requires assistance from the other hand. Spreading the mayo hurts, less so if I'm not too particular about it. I'm not too particular about closing the plastic bag that holds the lunchmeat, for the same reason.

Once the sandwich is assembled, I can pick up the knife to cut it. I use my Tupperware Tomato Knife because I am not able to apply any pressure to the knife without shooting pain all the way up to my elbow, so I must depend on the weight of the knife and its sharpness to do the job while I merely pull it back and forth. This is a risky job, because in addition to the lack of finger dexterity, I have no grip strength, and a wrong move could end with the sharpest knife in the known universe stabbing me through the foot and pinning me to the kitchen floor. But hey, some people indulge in dangerous sport just to seek this very thrill.

I can put the sandwich onto a plate, but it hurts to carry the plate to the table.

Forget winding spaghetti!