When I was in the E.R., right after they snapped my dislocated shoulder back into place and strapped me in a thick sling that felt more like a strait jacket, they informed me I might have to wear it for two to three weeks. Two to three weeks?!? Oh, the agony. Had I known that twelve weeks later I'd still be struggling to get back to normal I might have asked about robotic prosthetics.
Amazing how tough this can be.
At the beginning of March I had an EMG which showed that I didn't just ding up the radial nerve (which was already obvious from the severe wrist drop and inability to do more than slightly wiggle my fingers) but managed to do some fairly hefty damage to all the main nerves coming down from the shoulder. Luckily the test showed that all the nerves had some life in them, so I should get all function back eventually, just not quickly. (She managed to have me on edge by saying she did have some concerns about how little nerve activity there was in the fingers and a portion of the upper arm.) At the time of the test I couldn't lift my fingers off the table with my palm flat on the surface, I couldn't lift my thumb into a "Fonzi" and I couldn't do a bicep curl. It goes without saying I also couldn't raise my arm above my head or any advanced gymnastics like that.
Therapy aid or medieval torture device?
After nine weeks of physical therapy I still can't raise my hand above my head, but I can get it a little above shoulder level, making me feel less like Barney the dinosaur. The nerve damage and a fracture in one of my upper arm bones in addition to the dislocation are making everything very interesting for my therapist. We've been focusing mostly on getting everything stretched, since it will be impossible to straighten my arm in an Arnold Horshack pose, even if the nerves and strength are there, if the limb can't stretch that much in the first place. So, I spend literally hours every day stretching my arm with slides on the table, with pulleys hooked to my basement door, with a broomstick over my head while lying on the bed. I use my House cane occasionally, both as a therapy tool and as a weapon for ridding myself of a husband who likes to stand in the middle of the room and sing "Eye of the Tiger" at me.
Last week the therapist asked how I'd rate my ability to do every day activities. I told him if the activity involves my arm going no higher than shoulder level, I'm at about 90%. Anything higher than that and I've got issues. (I've perfected the art of one-handed hair washing.) While it would be nice to be able to use both arms to get cereal off the pantry shelf, my mental health is salvaged by the fact that my fingers mostly work now. I still have numbness and tingling in the pinky and part of the ring finger. (Strangely, the ulnar nerve controls the little finger and the half of the ring finger next to the pinky.) I've been able to type with the ring finger for the last couple weeks, but it wasn't until a week ago that I could start using the pinky. Prior to that I couldn't feel the keys under the finger enough to type with it. Plus I think it didn't quite have the strength to firmly press the button. Can I sound any wimpier?
The most important part of getting most of my finger function back isn't that I can now cook meals or floss my teeth with both hands or drive. It's that I can knit. I almost went stark raving, batsh*t crazy without yarn in my hands. I've mostly been doing dishcloths, easy patterns that will use up little odds and ends of cotton yarn I have around. I also managed an incredibly simple bunny rabbit toy for my beloved Tristan's Easter gift. I never thought garter stitch could make me so happy.
Ayyyyyyyyyy!
Thanks to all those in cyberspace who wished me well and have asked
about my progress. I'm looking forward to the day I'm back to being a two-armed blogger (even if I am one with only half a brain).
The last week of January it snowed. People and cars were slipping and sliding that week. So, when the paramedics were dispatched to my house on Friday, February 1 for a possible dislocated shoulder from a fall, they expected to find me in the driveway. Instead I was crumpled on my own hardwood floor, having slipped as I was rushing for the door to greet my daughter's school bus. Slipped isn't quite the right word. I had stumbled and pitched forward and put my hand up to break my fall since I was heading for the door jamb. I managed to smack into the wood with such force that I felt this very obvious sensation of a bone shifting in a way it wasn't supposed to. I hit the floor howling like a wounded beagle. My husband found me face down in the foyer, but I was in too much agony to even tell him what happened. At that moment Foghorn walked in the front door, looked down at me with contempt, and said something along the lines of, "What did she do now?"
The Professor was left to babysit while I was wheeled on the stretcher to the ambulance. If I hadn't been cursing my shoulder I'd have cursed my husband who hadn't trimmed the bushes well in the autumn and I got pummeled with ten feet of snowy branches as I was pushed along the walkway. Long story short slightly less long, I did indeed have a dislocated shoulder and a couple hours later they finally dosed me with Propofol ("Milk of Amnesia") and snapped it back in place. I awoke in a sling with this extra piece that essentially strapped my arm against my body so I couldn't pop the shoulder again. I was sent home with a Vicodin prescription and warnings to be very careful until I could see an orthopedic specialist the following week.
All weekend my arm was completely numb, from the fingers to the upper arm, the same tingly numbness you get when your foot falls asleep. I was told in the E.R. that was normal because of swelling in the upper arm. When I visited Dr. Ortho the following Monday, he and his physician's assistant and the nurse all acted like this numbness was anything but normal. They took more x-rays and tested my mobility (or lack thereof) and said I had Radial Palsy, which I had never heard of. It was explained that the nerve that basically controlled the whole arm had been damaged and thus I had some paralysis. Dr. Ortho then said, "It's one of those things that either comes back or it doesn't." Huh?!? 'Scuse me? This might be PERMANENT!?! He sent me for a wrist brace and told me to come back in three weeks to see if there was any improvement. His parting words were, "Don't panic yet. I've seen this come back in a number of cases...and worrying doesn't help anyway."
My sister drove me home and I cried hysterically to my husband and we all jumped on the Internet. From what we read, Radial Palsy is not uncommon for people with shoulder injuries, broken arms, or folks who have surgery. It IS serious, but 85% of people get function back in four to five months. Presumably out of the remaining 15%, some lucky folks get function back sooner than four months, some it takes longer, and some (ack!) don't get it back at all. Still, I figure the odds are in my favor. That doesn't mean I'm not worrying. I am, but I also am keeping what was left of my sanity by reminding myself that statistically my chances are good.
Normally in times of stress I comfort myself with watching lousy television while knitting. Um...yeah...unfortunately knitting's a two-handed hobby. It's depressing how many things are two-handed activities. And the dogs can't figure out why I'm not on the floor cuddling and can only pet one head at a time and why their breakfast is always late because they have to wait for that guy with the furry chin to come down to feed them.
I'm hopeful things are looking up. About a week after the fall the numbness started to ease a little and I started to get slightly more movement in the fingers. It's slow going, but each day it gets just a tiny bit better. Unfortunately as the numbness is wearing off, pain is setting in. The lady at the hand specialist said the nerve repairs from the upper arm down, meaning the fingers will be the last to heal completely. The pain is certainly following that pattern. It started in the arm just below the shoulder and has moved into the elbow area. I wake up every two hours in the night with this shooting pain like I cracked my funny bone on a brick wall, only it doesn't subside. The ortho's office said it helps to keep the blood circulating as much as possible, so I wander the house and get on the computer and eat cookies and finally go back to bed...for a couple hours. Rinse and repeat.
I still can't hold the arm up at all and the ring and pinky fingers are pretty much useless. But I can keep the wrist from completely drooping and I'm that close to being able to give my husband the finger. I can't wait to reach that milestone. Like President Obama said of Rahm Emanuel with his injured middle finger, I've been rendered practically mute.
