The dawning of the age of my radius

We must start with two apologies (yes, I am using the royal “we”).  Firstly, for the gloriously contrived nature of the title and secondly for banging on (yet again) about my injury.  Other stuff does happen in my life and soon (I promise) some of it will make it to the blog.

Today, I returned to the Minor Injury Unit – and this time in the afternoon.  The Unit is much busier at 15:10 than at 09:10 – at least partly because children have had time to injure themselves by mid-afternoon (or so I deduce from the contents of the waiting room).

Each time I visit the MIU, my injury receives an upgrade – which is nice, I suppose, but I would rather burn my upgrade potential on airline seating.  Talking of which, I have travelled on a lot of Bombardier Q400 Dash-8 aircraft operated by FlyBe (well into 3 figures by now) over the last eighteen months and they have all been much the same.  However, my flight last night had much comfier seats, better fold down tables and even window blinds!  On the downside, it appears to lack steps on the rear exit – but that seems a small price to pay.  It would seem that there are five of these deluxe Dash-8s in the FlyBe fleet, acquired from Republic, but those of us commuting across the Irish Sea don’t see much of them (or maybe I’ve just been unlucky?).  Forget paying extra to choose my seat, can I pay extra and choose my plane?

Anyway, back to my wrist!  Some fuzziness in my x-ray image has now been revealed as a fracture of my radius – the larger of the two bones in the forearm.  I presume the pair with much most of us are issued are referred to as a diameter?  Luckily, such fractures heal well – though the doctor did point out that my age was somewhat against me here (I didn’t have the nerve to tell him I was only 30, albeit in base 17).

I have now been issued with a set of exercises to perform each day to restore strength and mobility to my wrist and have to return to the Unit in 4 weeks: unless I am pain-free, in which case I am free to return to normality (or as closely as I can approximate that state)!  Already, the pain is much reduced and most of the exercises are a dead doddle: so I am hoping to beat the standard ten week recovery time from such a fracture.  However, I do need to acquire tennis ball (or similar) as part of my therapy – not sure the rather cubical juggling “ball” I am currently using is quite the ticket.

I have also been given a new removable cast.  This one is smaller, smells significantly less bad and is a better colour – especially as we move into Spring and the area around my wrist starts to tan (well, a chap can dream).  However, I am still riven by cast-envy: a man working in the box office at Turner Sims must have a similar injury, but his removable cast is a stylish, and in parts shiny, black.  This looks like a Borg-issue cybernetic implant and looks way cooler than either of my casts.  Is this one of the benefits of “going private”?  Or merely of assimilation into the collective?


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