Things I’ve been doing while I’m waiting, while I'm waiting to be able to make a full fist so I can punch a pillow … or something …
-I try, and fail, to write a funny note for my sigother to find in the a.m. … it looks like something a five-year-old left behind.
-I clean off everything on my desktop (the computer), dumping and deleting a zillion files here, a million files there, reorganizing folders, uninstalling programs, fix-cleaning, defragging, virus clearing and super defunking until my computer no longer makes that “I’m full and going to puke my guts out/fan working too hard noise.” My left hand has grown so attached to the spacebar and my mouse! The fingers of my right hand get to join in this dance, as well, but my right thumb, wrist and part of my forearm remain out of the game, under wraps and hard-splinted, immobile.
-I put a bunch of things back where they belong, in the house, using only my left hand, gradually giving up, because everyone knows that when you put a bunch of things away where they belong, it just makes you see the BUNCH OF THINGS THAT ARE LEFT TO PUT AWAY WHERE THEY BELONG!
-I clean out the DVR on the TV in the bedroom, where in a preop anxiety-ridden funk, I recorded 9,000 episodes of “Chopped,” way too many episodes of “Iyanla Fix My Life,” and one hundred too many reality shows!
-I clip the dead heads off the outdoor plants, encouraging new growth, with my, thankfully, ambidextrous garden clippers, forcing my face into all the blooms, then lifting my head to the sky and screaming, “I’m going to bloom where I’ve been planted,” which is right here at home doing stupid hand therapy that is eventually supposed to get me somewhere.
-I continue to pluck and tweak the indoor houseplants, watering them with ice cubes … who knew!
-I read this or that book and share a nectarine with the dogs.
-I make and drink 90 doses of ice coffee a day.
-I read EVEN MORE books and share a nectarine with the dogs.
-I grow tired of reading, so I watch an old movie, take my splint off, do range of motion exercises. As a reward, I ice and elevate the bad hand and use my good hand to, you guessed it, share a nectarine with the dogs.
-I do some work, yes!
-I do not do some other work, boo!
- I paint my nails, haphazardly, looking forward to the day when I can go meet up with my manicurist for the “real thing.”
-I aimlessly flip through magazines which I really, really need to tear up, fondle yarn and fabrics, consider working (but have not started on rebuilding) my Etsy shop.
-I read everything in my Kindle’s Pulsed/Linked In newsfeeds, decide on all the ways I’m going to change the world … later, after I read some more and share just one more nectarine with the dogs.
-I clip the dogs to their leads (clumsily but efficiently/but takes forever!!!!) and let them outside, multiple times a day, so they can peruse the yard and decide on a spot wherein they may dispose of the many nectarine fibers they’ve been consuming.
-I rinse and repeat, with my “good hand,” applying ice, antibiotic ointments, fresh dressing and then reapplying the hand splint to my “bad hand,"
And I do all of this while humming and/or murdering the lyrics/revamping them to fit my mood and my day, as I continue to go through the motions of "Something To Do While We're Waiting" ...
Postscript: I really need to change that to “my presurgical/full of steroids, and muddling on through left hand” which is in reality the “bad hand,” the unfixed hand/thumb joint. The postsurgical right hand/thumb joint are in actuality the “cured and fixed” hand/thumb joint, and therefore the new and improved “good hand,” but I just doesn’t fully feel like that yet. I am getting there, however, super excited for the day when the language of this all makes sense.