Six weeks and 8,976 stitches later

Today is the six week anniversary of my idiotic, crash and burn moment. I  got the cast off last

week, essentially because I am just so darn charming. Actually, I confess... I had walked into that fracture clinic determined to walk out minus the fibreglass cast. I didn't care if I had to, dare I say, flirt; whatever it would take . Yes, I have still got 'it' because 'bam' I was cut out of that thing within 10 minutes of speaking to the doctor. My only surprise was that I will have to wear a brace for another month. AUGH. It will be 9 weeks of immobility before I can even begin physiotherapy. (I injured myself worse than I thought, it appears.) Terribly annoying. I miss my two handedness. I miss being pain free. I miss sleeping more than a 2 hour stretch at a time. I miss seeing 5 distinctive knuckles on my left hand, and I miss holding a fork with one hand and using a knife to cut with the other. Sigh.

Before the technician sawed the cast open, I was lectured by the doctor as to what I could and could not do. And I shared the news that I had been knitting throughout my convalescence. "How?" the surgeon asked..."very, very slowly," I explained. But still, not too shabby: 8,976 stitches in 6 weeks might be less than I would normally knit, but it is better than nothing at all.  (Yes, I did the math to get to that number).  I explained my 'knitting as physiotherapy' methodology and he was speechless. "Well, if it turns out that there is significant improvement in your soft tissue recuperation time, I would definitely consider writing about it," he said.  "Oh, you don't have to..." I replied, "I've been blogging about it!"

These six weeks have taught me many things. Some of which are:

• Everyone should learn how to crack and empty an egg into a bowl with one hand... the day may come when this skill will be a useful necessity and not just a cool 'show off in the kitchen trick'.
• I really, truly am the only human in my household who not only knows how to change a toilet roll, but also empty a garbage can. One evening, about two weeks into this ordeal, after a muttering and blathering rant that surely the whole neighbourhood had heard, I decided the reason why I was clearly the only one who could perform these 'highly skilled' tasks in my home was because, that is what all that Latin 'fine print' at the bottom of my Master's Degree meant... it was all fancy shmancy Latin mumbo-jumbo that proved that I was more qualified at Toilet paper roll changing and rubbish bin emptying than the average human. Yup, definitely.
• Eventually, you can get almost everything done with one hand. Almost. You just have to be really, really patient. Really.
• If something scares you, it's okay to do it anyhow. The first day I went back to work, I was terrified to walk there because it was icy. I knew that I had to walk it despite the inclement weather or I wouldn't be able to do it for the rest of the winter. It now takes me ten or fifteen minutes longer to walk to work, but I am doing it.

There is still plenty more recuperation, and all the necessary patience required along with it, but I don't feel like I am ready to give up quite yet. In fact, if I manage to finish, cast off and block the project I have been knitting, I may actually attempt the intarsia 'companion piece' I had planned to make as well. One handed intarsia knitting...don't know if it is even possible. But, like an icy sidewalk, you don't know unless you try.