A Person’s Character Lies In Their Own Hands

If you had asked me Tuesday or even yesterday how my hand was, I probably would have said that it was feeling better. Sure, the joint was still hurting quite a bit, but it was starting to look better and I didn’t want to scream my head off when I would go to use it. The only time I almost went over the weight limit on picking stuff up was yesterday afternoon when I tried lifting Amy with that hand. That wasn’t so smart, but I swapped out hands before I’d really even moved her, so I didn’t think too much of it. Well, now I am. I am no longer in the running for Miss Super-Quick Healer 2014. No, I feel like I’m back near where I started with post-op. My hand does not feel good at all.

It hurts.

A lot.

It feels more unstable. It hurts more. And the stitches are not looking good. I’ve gone from having it just covered by the regular bandage to having it wrapped with gauze and the bandage. We’ve also added in some Neosporin, which I’ve only used one other time in this recovery process. Tomorrow is stitch removal day, which means that I don’t have to wait very long before getting an expert opinion on how it is doing. Hopefully, it will be doing better tomorrow and the pain is just a sign that I was doing a little too much, a little too soon. Yeah, I guess I have a lot of hopes when it comes to this hand, but can you really blame me at this point?

Other than my hand, I guess life is boring. I missed another therapy session today. I really need to stop doing that. I found out that I didn’t make a list of should follow Instagram users/bloggers from Huntsville, which wasn’t shocking because, let’s face it, my blog isn’t really all that exciting and my Instagram is basically devoted to pictures of Amy. Oh, and I am now arguing with EBSCO over one of their telemarketers calling while I was asleep to get me to resubscribe to NYLON, refusing to take no for the answer, and telling me that it was for three years and would cost me $39.95 AFTER I agreed and hanging up before I could tell them no, then not offering me a way to otherwise back out of the subscription. I could have handled a year’s subscription, maybe, but three years? No. And they should have said how much it would cost. When they call for other magazines now, I tell them no until they get the message. If I hadn’t been asleep when that first call happened, then I would have done the same thing then. The situation is just pissing me off.

About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.