Enough about me... let's talk more about me


3.1.2004 My Mutant-X Wrist

So, like I missed the Oscars. Stupid me left the tickets by the bedside table and of course, they wouldn't let me in without them - security is tight these days. Okay. Not really. Just goes to show that there is a lighter side to life. Rereading over my documented life these past few months really has reminded me that there has been a brighter side to things and I've sort of dismissed recording in substitute for the *more serious* stuff that's been going on. Don't really want to leave the impression that I need a Prozac pill the size of a softball, but there has been the everyday neat-o stuff going on as well.

That's right. There's more to today's life than being dramatic. Like, for example, my wrist.

Don't know what has really happened over the years, but it seems to me that I've had this reoccurring injury that has originated from my weight-lifting days. It's nothing really serious, but sort of weird. Back long ago, when I had started lifting weights, my forearms weren't really the strongest in the world. And, when I would perform certain exercises like bench presses, I used to cock my wrists back to support the bar instead of holding them outright. This was to compensate for the weak forearms. Well, over time, I found this to create a burning sensation in my right wrist, so I had to reposition my grip once again.

Well, things haven't been the same since. Not like I constantly have this burning pain in my right wrist. I don't. But I think I've aggravated it for the past five or six so months by carrying Megan around with a cocked wrist fashion. This time though, instead of the burning sensation, my wrist has compensated by growing a hard bone-like bubble on the inner side of my wrist - sort of to take up any slack there, my wrist has magically decided to get bigger.

Not such a bad thing for a guy, I think, but only if I can do this at will and to any part of the body that I wish.

Well, welcome to the world of my mutant-x powers. Ironically however, there is no pain. And, I've been able to use this new hump in my wrist to my advantage. In some sense, it's like an extra finger. I can think of many times when this has come in handy (no pun intended). Like during laundry, I can hold Megan and hang some shirts on my wrist at the same time. And needless to say, I type much quicker now, for I hit the spacebar with this new appendage: I know. Feel the envy.

Okay. I know this thing is weird. So, with a lot of coaxing from Elizabeth, I figured I needed to get this thing checked out. And as much as I am appreciative of doctors, I had to make the dreaded appointment to go for a visit.

Half a week later, I found myself sitting in the doctor's waiting room twiddling my fingers and my new appendage on my wrist. "Peter," the nurse calls out. "Peter... Peter!" Finally, I figured that if I kept ignoring her, she would somehow, just go away. But I know this probably wasn't appropriate.

"Yes," I raised my hand and proceeded to walk over to the open door and into the tunnel of doom.

"When was the last time you were here?" she asked.

"Um.. I'm not too sure. It was a while ago."

We walked into one of the examining rooms and both had a seat. "So! The weather has been excellent lately huh?" I asked. It was no use.

"What can I do for you today?"

"Umm.. here," I raised my sleeve and showed her my new enlarged wrist.

She looked at it for about two seconds and said, "That's it?"

"That's it," I said.

"If it doesn't bother you, you can leave it. But if it's growing bigger, you probably should do something about it."

"It's kinda getting bigger," I said, "But it doesn't hurt or nothing."

She stood up, opened the door, and started walking out, "The doctor will be right in."

I waited and waited. It seemed like eternity, but it was actually only about two minutes. The doctor finally entered. He seemed like he was sort of in a hurry, but cordial at the same time, "Long time no see Peter. How've you been?"

"Alright, I guess. The weather, it's excellent huh?"

"Okay. Let me see that wrist."

I pulled up my sleeve and laid my arm on the table. After two seconds of scrutinizing it, he described the situation to me. It wasn't a bone. It was basically a swelling of the membrane above the cartilage. He mentioned that I must've injured my wrist some time in the past, and now a bunch of fluid has gathered together in a tight spot in the membrane above that. The treatment was to release that fluid. He turned around, reached for a box and started to put on a pair of rubber gloves.

"Oh," I said, "So, we're thinking NOW is a good time."

"Yes," he replied while reaching for something in a drawer. He came out with this huge needle neatly covered in this individual paper and plastic wrap.

Not having a fondness of needles I squeaked out one more question, "So, is this gonna hurt?"

His first reaction was a pregnant pause. This is never good especially after asking someone if something is going to hurt. I consider myself a pretty sharp guy who can read people pretty well, and I know that what is going through his head was -- 'I am going to stab this huge freakin needle into this poor guy's wrist. This thing is going to hurt like a bitch. What is the best way that I can tell him that this may be close to one the worst excruciating pains that he will ever have to feel in his whole life.' After looking at me for about two seconds and noticing that I was reading his mind, he finally said, "Would you like something to numb the area first?"

The puncturing and blood-letting went well. He was able to draw out some of the fluid with the needle and also did a lot of squeezing of the area. At this point, my mental picture of it has metamorphosed from a bone-like appendage to that of a huge zit. There was some blood. There was some clear fluid. About a minute later, he taped up the area and said the most profound thing, "If it gets inflamed again, you can just do this yourself."

Do this myself -- the words just rang through my head. Yeah, I got out of there pretty fast.

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...One thing is that no matter how old I am, I probably will not like being called sir or mister, for they have always seemed too far out of reach...

  

 
 

 
 

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