Well, it’s off. Yes, that burdensome piece of cast is off my wrist and I’m free!!! I can sew, and I’ve been making up for lost time. I’ve been canning, cleaning, and trying my best to clean up my garden for winter, even though my heart’s not into it. Sewing has been fun too, although those times when I have to rip, my wrist is very sore. But I throw everything I have at it; I want it to adjust back to normal, although there will never be a “normal” with 2 mm less than it was.
Today I canned 18 pints of pears, and two days ago I canned 12 pints of pasta sauce. This next week, it’s the pumpkins, and in mid October, it will be the apples. I’m not going to organize my canning shelf until the apples are done; “organizing” means to pull all the older stuff forward, and there is a lot of stuff!
You can’t imagine the freedom that surrounds you when you get a cast taken off. You begin to rethink your eating habits, personal hygiene and other very important things. And of course, you have the stupid idea that things are going to be back to normal, immediately. Sure, yeah.
Then you do something that you had taken for granted, such as scratch your back, or move your arm rather quickly. Nope, can’t do it–yet–have to wait until arm stretches. And if you do manage to move it, the intense pain that is given from moving too fast/too hard/carrying too much is enough to make you remember to slow down and think. Then you realize you should have known better.
I look forward to the day when some sort of normalcy will return, when I can curve my wrist and arm, when I can hold a paring knife in my hand and not have it hurt. But maybe then I’ll be so old, arthritis will set in and I’ll forget what I once had.