I have decided (in light of my photos
going over like a lead balloon.
) to continue the saga of my busted up car (and hand) here. Warning, there be no hidden text, but then that's why I'm putting it here.
So, the van is totaled. It's a 2000 Grand Caravan, and the engine block is cracked. So, yeah, not fixing it. Okay, that's the van settled, then.
My hand is a sight more interesting. Turns out it needed a pin, because the finger was broken to the left, so it's basically the Quebec of my hand, trying to secede. Sorry. no. I need all five provinces I've got. So yesterday I went in for it. Luckily, this is one of the nation's top orthopedic hospitals.
Everything's routine right up until the operation itself. They declined to give me a full general, in case I have any apnea, so they can bring me up just enough to resolve that. Not to worry, the anesthesiologist told me, you'll still be unconscious and won't remember a thing.
So I wake up and feel them working on the hand. I'm pretty sure I cried out, but I still wasn't (or couldn't) move anything but my eyes and mouth. It stopped after just a few seconds, so I asked "Is that it?" (I'm sure this is what every surgeon wants to hear from the patient during surgery.) They said it was, I replied "Awesome." (Because it was, considering that meant no more of that!)
I had the presence of mind to thank them and wish them a great day as I got wheeled out of the OR.
So here I sit, my hand resting elevated on my desk, my prescription painkillers untouched as of yet because Aleve is doing just fine, and I don't want to use narcotic painkillers unless I have to.
All in all, not a bad resolution to the saga. Of course, it's not really over... I get the sutures out Wednesday (my birthday, yay.)