Hullo, all out there, on the other ends of their computer screens. I finally took the plunge – not just with this blog, but with that awful step behind my porch! My son has been telling me for years that it’s too dangerous for me, but my stubbornness won out.
He’s a good boy, though – hasn’t said “I told you so” once!
His wife is lovely too, bringing me all sorts of baked goods and pre-cooked dinners so I don’t have to move around too much. I have a sneaking suspicion that they’ve been chatting to my doctor about me needing to put on weight – I haven’t eaten this much butter in the last sixty years!
She also recommended that I see somebody about my shoulder, how it hasn’t been quite right since The Great Tumble (as only I seem interested in calling it). It turns out I need something called a scapula fracture fixation – I know, it sounds dreadful, doesn’t it? A shoulder surgeon goes in with a small incision and has to install a metal plate in my shoulder! (To match the one in Barbara’s hip, if she’s here reading this!)
I was absolutely stuffed bursting with questions for the good doctor, as I’m sure you can imagine: how long does it take to recover from a scapula fracture fixation? Would the procedure hurt? How much movement could I expect back? Was she married, and how old were her children?
She was very helpful, of course – all these new doctors are – and gave me answers to all of my questions (five years this March and two twin babies, in case you were curious Babs).
She had to rush off to perform some limb-saving rotator cuff repair in Melbourne, but she checked up on me over the phone every few days until I was fully recovered. I can feel the plate, sometimes, but for the most part I’m fully back and functional.
Ooh, I just realised I’m like one of those… what are they called? Oh!
A Bionic Woman! That’s me!
P.S. Babs, I still have your casserole dish. I’m around on Thursday if you’d like to pick it up.