Unplastered

Today was my first visit to the fracture clinic since the operation. It started none too well, as I had decided to go by bus, which meant that I arrived five minutes late for my 2.55 pm appointment. When I apologised, the receptionist was all smiles. 'Not to worry, we've started late today anyway.' Not really kidding, she wasn't - it was ten past four when I was called in to the plaster room. All went well from then, though. The plaster and bandage dressing was removed, the wound and repair declared satisfactory, and I was sent home in a small splint the same as the one Judith wears for aquacise.

There's not just a plate across the wrist, that's just the top of a T shape which goes quite a long way down the front of my arm. It looks quite impressive on the x-ray. It feels much better, much more comfortable, although I've been given exercises to do which aren't altogether pain free at the moment. And if all goes well I don't have to go back for four weeks. I'm to be sensible, of course - no lifting, no doing too much, no driving. I've just checked, and typing's out, too, except for middle finger, which will peck a bit. Still, I'm sure it will come in time.

I saw my friend from the bed opposite, too. She was in having her cast removed and replaced with a lighter one, and looked very well, although she's still not able to put her foot on the ground.

I jumped on a bus into the city centre, as I was so close. Not that the bus went straight there, of course. It wandered all over the place, in and out of Asda, in and out of Marsh Mills retail park, and finally crunched into the back of a green car, luckily for me right outside the back door of Primark, my chosen destination. I left the drivers arguing and got Ron's new trackies, then on to my third bus of the day and home in time for tea. Wonderful, these new bus passes. Before, I could have done Derriford and back, or the city centre and back, but not the round trip.