So. Day one, I slept and was pitiful. Day two, I slept and threw up and was pitiful. Day three, I slept and was pitiful and managed to eat a cracker or two. Day four, off came the bandages and the sling, and my arm flopped down, utterly out of control, and I. Was. Pitiful. I didn't even feel the slightest twinge of cabin fever until day 6. Also? Sleeping with your arm strapped to your body sucks. Even now I wake up every time I try to roll over, so I haven't slept more than an hour or two in a row in two weeks.
It's now been two weeks and two days. I have a tiny bit of control over my left arm -- I can dress myself, at last, but I'm still washing my hair one-handed. Physical therapy started yesterday. For the first couple of weeks it'll be "passive stretching," meaning that I don't need to exert any effort or try to exhibit any strength. Which is good, because I don't have any. But even though it's passive, it still hurts like a mutha.
Herewith are a few choice photos:
Here we are before the bandages and sling came off.
And here we are five minutes after removing all the bandages and surgical tape. I couldn't believe how huge the scar is, so of course had to document it. The spot in front is where the doctor tried at first to do the whole thing orthoscopically. Unfortunately, the tear was just too big.
One week after surgery.
And two weeks after surgery, two days ago.
Oh, and just to insert a tiny bit of relevance to this blog, I am able to crochet with a minimum of pain. Weaving is not in the foreseeable future.
