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A personal note: fracture right humerus, open reduction and internal fixation

2021-07-04

Last time I posted, my right arm was in a splint, because of a fracture of the humerus I sustained in a fall. Since then, I spent six days in the hospital with a mistaken diagnosis of “septic shock” and “pneumonia.” Obviously that was wrong, because I would have likely died with those diagnoses. Perhaps I will blog later about my experiences in hospital, although I can tell you it will not be a pretty story.

Instead, I went to an orthopedist, a wonderful lady named Dr. Lee, who performed an outpatient ORIF (open reduction and internal fixation) and sewed my biceps muscle back together. The muscle had been lacerated by the fracture fragments.

She told me that I would definitely have had a fracture nonunion because of the size and displacement of the fracture fragments– unless I had the ORIF. I looked at the Xrays and she was certainly right. I now have a beautiful scar on the front of my right biceps, about ten inches long. No stitches– they used glue to approximate the skin edges after finishing.

I have been working on my range of motion, which is much improved although not quite normal. As you can see, I am able to type with both hands. Unfortunately, an incidental finding was arthritis of the right glenohumeral joint, of which I was not aware. My shoulder and lower neck still ache, although this is improving also.

I was assuming an eight to twelve week period of disability but this was much reduced by the surgery (as opposed to wearing a splint for the entire time) so here I am.

I am enticed to blog again because I learned yesterday that Wal-Mart is going to start selling human insulin for about a fifth of the usual brand name price. See next blog entry for details.

Thanks to nobody for commiserating with me… I’m so much a loner that only my family members have been aware of my situation and this blog (which is almost ten years old) has no followers. So if you’re reading this, please comment so that I will know someone has read it.

photo courtesy of pixabay and IAOM-US

5 Comments leave one →
  1. Angel permalink
    2021-07-04 9:50 AM

    Hey man, I read your blog! Sorry about your fall and hospital issues. Glad to hear that you’re on the mend.
    I just wanted to know that someone is reading even if it doesn’t seem that way.

    Like

    • 2021-07-04 2:31 PM

      Thanks, Angel, for reading. At least I have two (maybe three, haven’t heard from her yet) readers…

      Like

  2. Eric permalink
    2021-07-04 10:08 AM

    I read and appreciate having a brother but that sort of feeling, when successful, is usually a two-way street. And I think neither one of us, given our DNA and our real past paternal oversight, will ever be very successful when it comes to “family.” We’re too smart, too entitled, too unforgiving, too impatient, too alphatized (too alphabetic?), and probably a bit neurotic.

    But one can try. (Or not.)

    Although I am an academic and am compelled to write sometimes, I no longer bother with fiction. Now, to make extra money, I day-trade. It was the only solution I could find at my age, other than teaching, which I find pointless because students in the main do not care, as we used to back in the day. And I have no interest in or time for people who do not care about learning or ideas or ethics or politics or anything else.

    It was nice to hear from you, although it is not pleasurable knowing that you hurt yourself.

    I am listening to Yo-Yo Ma play Bach (Cello Suite #2 in D minor BWV 1008). The unaccompanied cello is quite beautiful here.

    Be well, Conrad.

    Like

    • 2021-07-04 2:30 PM

      The only characterization I would disagree with would be “entitled”…
      Yo-Yo Ma was in school at the same time and close to the same place I was; I used to see advertisements for his concerts all the time. I regret that I missed seeing him in person when I had the opportunity.

      Like

  3. Eric permalink
    2021-07-05 11:57 AM

    I spoke of myself: I am entitled — I grew up in a very wealthy family. But I am not unforgiving, nor am I always impatient. My invitation is to you and Catherine to write me, a fallible person, an email. “Parents,” wrote the too unappreciated poet Philip Larkin, “they fuck you up.” And isn’t it true of all three of us. But we should claim what is ours, among blood relatives — and we hardly got started. Write me an email. Both of you.

    Like

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