the tinyblog

Ben lost his passenger helmet for the motorcycle so I took the bus to Harborview today. As I approached I was glad I had the batphone. They cut off the cast, took films, and I sat around in the casting room for awhile cradling my tender bumpy wrist (I just condensed 2 hours for you there).

Already the bone surgeons and I have rapport. I respect what they do, and they respect that I damn well want the X-rays and my treatment options explained to me. Last time they said that it looked like they couldn't do anything much better via surgery, but this time they weren't so sure.

The X-ray was in a slightly different angle than the one 2 weeks ago, and they couldn't tell 100% if there was further degradation. They took me in the other room and used some other kind of live-action X-ray that's lower resolution. Actually it was stunningly cool to see them rotating my wrist around and seeing the bones themselves move fluidly on the display.

The two orthos studied it aloud while I sat there. They couldn't come to any serious conclusion. They were pretty sure it was still within the recommended 2mm of displacement, but couldn't be sure if it was more than last time or not. I looked real closely at what they were talking about and I admit it was difficult to even discern the similarities in the two slightly different X-ray angles.

So, one of the doctors said he'd like to see a CAT scan. I took a deep breath and said, "Hold up...is there any other way? This is out-of-pocket."

He gritted his teeth and they went back and studied the regular X-rays for awhile again, and still couldn't come to a difinitive decision. It was still within the 2mm, but he just couldn't tell for 100% sure if he could help with surgery. We made a compromise, they recast me and I come back in a week and we take another round of X-rays. If it still looks like a CAT scan is necessary then we'll do it, insane debt be damned. I want surgery like I want a hole in the head, but I'm also willing to be in debt to prevent serious mobility problems with my wrist.

They gave me another nice blue cast, but I'm understandably pretty bummed. I was kinda expecting, "See you in 6 weeks, kid." If there's a CAT scan or surgery it's really...kind of a bad scene. I'm trying to go easy on myself, but I feel pretty stupid.

I wandered aimlessly towards home, taking busses and walking, finally stopping for dinner at some Filipino place, where I chilled out over some pork adobo. It was tasty, and had these really good clear bean thread noodles...I didn't even know they had those in the Phillipeans.

As I walked out the door, this slightly overweight middle aged guy with thinning hair caught my attention. "Hey", he said, "Do you have any Demerol?"

I sputtered a little bit, indicating my cast lamely, as if to say, "They don't give you Demerol for a broken arm!" but he took it to mean confusion as to what the hell he was talking about. "You know," he further explained, "painkillers." I finally just said no, and I think he felt looked down on.

"Sorry...I just thought you were hip," he said.

I suddenly looked down at the ratty black leather motorcycle jacket I was wearing. I guess in the 50's this was a prime indicator of hipness. It was the jacket and the hair that made him ask, not the cast. Then I thought, holy shit, dude just called me a square! I snorted. "I'm crazy hip!"

Oh well, guess I really am a dork. I didn't realize black leather and Demerol was what it took.

Anyway, merry holiday thing, check my abstract batphone picture of downtown Seattle Christmas lights: