Fennel

Fennel is blooming. Along with thyme and onions, so not terribly showy.



Pumpkins spreading out. Still not turning the compost pile. I'm about strong enough, but I've given up for the season. Let the pumpkins do their thing.

This is B.J. Kenny, our stray kitten from last year. He's looking well fed and healthy. He circles me when I'm out back, not wanting to be touched, but willing to keep company.




Not Moby.

Moby has been sitting on laps. Mine several times yesterday. Our friend who came over got sat upon as well.


It is grey and humid, no substantial rain, only spattering.

Jam

As I started off to work yesterday morning I got stuck in a chicken traffic jam.

Two neighbor chickens were sauntering toward me in the driveway through the narrow gap between the houses. I approached them at 1/2 MPH, and they confusedly turned around, and reluctantly started wandering the other direction. Nudging them further, until they reached the widening leading to my front yard. I moved further to my left, leaving them space to get by, I moved a little faster. One fluttered into the lemon balm, irritated, the other disappeared from my view.

Past them, I looked in the rear view mirror, and they were strutting back the way they'd come, clearly exasperated at being rushed.

"WELL! I never! How rude!"


It was 0630, I was not about to honk at them.

Benchmarks

\

(Re-enactment)

After the first - 5 week post-op clearance to exert 5 lbs of pressure, I weighed the full kettle. At 3.5 lbs, I tried to pour with it. Ha. Habloodyfuckingha. So, that has been my benchmark, when that twist with weight was doable, I was back to an acceptable range of normal and healed. This morning, with a little assist from Lefty, Derecho did it. For the second pot of tea, Lefty was there*, but Derecho did it all herself. The teapot was even easier, for a given measure of 'easy'.

Ten weeks.






*Like the first time on a bike without training wheels, the second time just there for reassurance.

Ligament

.

Healing well, still a way to go. The ulnar styloid tip shows some damage, however slight, it accounts for the pain on that side, and likely the 'catching' that is so startling and ouchie. Ligament disruption from the dislocation.

A good, solid day, my first in ten weeks. Fighting my own fear and timidity now. Derecho working well, although tired by the end.

Need to get some water on the front garden.

It's come a way.

Restrictions

The arm is cleared to work without restrictions. The bone is healed enough to start building up strength, so they put me on a resistance machine. There will be therapy putty and wrist rotations. A visiting physician from Thailand suggested I massage the scar area whenever possible, so I will do that too.

The catching pinches, what I think of as my trigger wrist, continue. Better X-ray shows the damage to the ulnar head, which rather explains it. I figured it had to be dislocated, given the visible external deformity. The damage will heal on its own, in time and as I continue to work on it.

Then I finished my work shift, no splint. Not really painful, so much as feeling rough and tired. Drove without it, and felt fine.

Giving myself this one day as respite, though. I've not missed a single therapy assignment in this ten weeks. Not entirely sure what I will need to keep doing every day, so I am taking a break and thinking it through.

Inevitable

Eleanor's food is put down, she starts eating. Moby moseys up, noses in, as if to say "so. you gonna eat that?" Then we have to quickly get his bowl in front of his face so he doesn't bother her. They wind up noshing together.


Emergency/Disaster exercise at work this morning, as the med school and residents graduate. Then inventory. Done by 1030, which was nice. We did pretty well, which pleased our managers. Some things needed to improve communication, some people went right to worst case scenario. I was in a good group that thought through, planned but also waited for instruction. They expected we'd be four hours, we were done in 90 minutes, then debriefed. Then less than an hour to finish inventory. They had to get the lunches delivered sooner, most of us grabbed them and skedaddled.

I took a moment to photograph the 6' thistle growing out the OR emergency exit.



Pinch bruises around the end of the work brace. Inevitable.




Did not get a photo, but I'm pretty sure I saw a Canadian Tiger Swallowtail butterfly today.

Putty

The only blooms in front are the white clover and a bit of the black mustard. I still find it lovely. Harvested some of the oats, mostly to replant at this point. Wheat will be this weekend or next week, again mostly to re sow The back has California poppies and larkspur. Going into the dry season. We are at the tipping point of the year.




The composing pumpkins decided to grow, since I can't turn the pile yet. I'll leave them to it.



Don't know what the pink ones are, but they're done blooming.

Eleanor insisted on a good brushing, and I got fistfuls of fur off - to her evident enjoyment. Also got Dylan's head shaved, the second time since the fracture, and the first time done well. Derecho still gets tired easily, but she's a trooper. Hand therapy revving up, and I'm pressing for more. I have putty.


Add: This is the last pink flower, a bit blurry.

Markings

He's feeling better today. Got him out in the garden, and with a few redirects, he wandered all the way around the house, at his insistence. Navigating the back stairs up, and down, ignoring the back door pointedly. Ate grass, horked, seemed to be able to see a bit.

Good days, bad days, good days.

My fingers have always just touched around my wrist. So, medium bone size. Today, the right wrist is this much bigger.






Life leaves its marks upon us.

Foxtail

Slowly and carefully, I took the hand clippers out and topped the foxtail grasses around the edge of the wheat stand. Another week and I may be able to harvest that. Dylan got the electrical cord out, and I trimmed down the overgrowth of the red bushes and the Hedge. Again, slowly and carefully. But this is the sort of job that isn't a chore for me, it soothes the soul, it's big and it shows when I'm done. And Derecho took it very well, which gives me hope. There is a stretch, while injured, when it feels like one will never heal, never get back to anything like normal. Not even a new normal. Derecho is tired, but not in pain.




The worst moments are always the sudden sideway twists, or flicks. Always startling and emphatically WRONG. There will be fewer of these, over time, I'm sure. There already are, but it's hard to track improvement when it's up&down and each improvement involves more pain. Even though it does hurt less every week. But not every day. And the sort of job in the garden or around the house is one where I can avoid bad movements and get my strength up.

Hand Therapy got me rolling a huge cylinder of, essentially, silly putty. Excruciating and wonderful together. Made some of my own today, with Dylan's assistance. Also catsoup. Dylan got the yard sale deep fryer out and made jalapeño poppers, which were quite good, although we'll need to tweak a few bits. Still, a success, and a good meal. This may sound like a lot, but we took it all very slowly, one after the other with rest breaks.

Finally got Moby's stuck turd out, expressed it, to his evident distress. But Dylan had leather gloves on, and only a tiny nip got through. We hope this will clear things for him for another while, as he can now get more out. And I'm glad I more or less knew what to do, typical nurse thing, and I haven't got any squeamishness left in me.

Thinking about the biblical quote about god creating man in his own image. Which must mean that god is imperfect, because so is man. Right? I have a real problem with perfection and purity, it's an idea that is utterly faulty. Watching Good Omens no doubt put this in my mind. The idea of yin/yang is more explicit, but eastern religions have the same love of the idea of perfection. I think the underlying philosophies of both is that perfection is not a good idea, but an ironically flawed one. But some people will worship perfection. Anything perfect is dead. Anything sterile is lifeless. Purity is deadly.





The more hardy Serviceberry I put in the raised bed, and it's still dormant, or possibly dead. The weaker one I put in a spare spot, of which there are not many anymore, and it's sprouting a little leaf. There you go then.

Fatigue

It's been a rough week. Dealing with a lot of fatigue. Hand improving, but painfully. I dare not want another month off, the universe might say ok and break another bone as payment.

Doing ok, not getting much done.

Adapting

During this fracture healing process, I've adapted with a number of workarounds. Lefty has gotten stronger and more adept. Right elbow gets stuck in, and Derecho does what she can with a finger† to getting back to some kind of normal. It's a long game though, and Lefty will always do more than before. Derecho sore and shaky this morning, so I put her in the brace for comfort. I figure I'm at about 80% at work, a solid B-. Slow, clumsy, easily fatigued, I still know my stuff, it all gets done.

A friend from Boston and her spouse stopped by last evening, Dylan prepared the meal. I wasn't much help since I'd worked that day and the day before. I'd never met John*, but we all felt like we'd known each other forever. Rather like with our Massachusetts cousins. They were impressed with my Garden. Dyed-in-the-wool lefties. They are off to see Antelope Island today. Talked about everything. One of those sorts of evenings. Eleanor walking all over both of them as soon as they sat down.

Caught up in Sylvia Izzo Hunter's magical alternative history books. The plots are... imperfect, but I like her writing and the characters, and the sheer inventiveness of her concepts. Strongly woman-centered, smart, and internally consistent. First real fantasy I've read and enjoyed in a long time. If I don't include Pratchett, which I don't.



Friends coming by this evening as well, to continue watching Good Omens. Speaking of Pratchett.



Thursday was punctuated with intense thunderstorms off and on all day. Last night fierce winds whooshed through, temperatures dropped. Only 47˚F this morning.



†As opposed to an eye, since she doesn't have eyes.
*You know, Dave's friend. (Not really, that's a joke, but then again he probably does have a friend named Dave.)

Translucence

Evening sun illuminates the flowers, translucent petals.