The Overdue Update: My Cyborg Arm with Refrigerator Magnets

The Overdue Update: My Cyborg Arm with Refrigerator Magnets

I broke the Ulna bone in my forearm, near the flexor digitorum sublimis, where it connects to the elbow, but an inch below the actual end of the bone. It was compacted; shoved back onto itself. What can I say? I’m an overachiever.

The surgery was a success. It was, however, much more complicated than expected because when I do something, I do it well. Originally the expected time for my surgery was 1 ½ hours. It took closer to three hours to fix me.

The original plan had options of pins or plates and screws AND bone tissue from a cadaver.

(Ooooohh, zombie elbow!)



But, because of the extensive damage, the best way to deal with my situation was to add a T-shaped plate and screws to the broken bone so it would sit correctly and fit into my elbow properly. No dead guy bone tissue needed. It’s a permanent addition to my arm and therefore will require me to carry a card so I can travel through airports and not get hassled as bad by homeland and airport security.

I’m currently in a splint that’s a cottony covered metal sheath that is a little open on the sides and where my hand is, but curves around my elbow nicely to hold me in place. It’s wrapped in ace bandages to keep it snug. It prevents me from moving my elbow or twisting my arm so both the wound from surgery and the bone have a chance to heal.

I have staples (Whee! Don't run!) running from 2” above my elbow down to about 4” below. I was able to see them two days after surgery. I didn’t expect to see staples. I thought I was sewn together. It was a little disappointing, actually.

The splint is to remain on at all times until the Dr. removes the staples on Mon 24th! At that point I will have physical therapy.

Since the fall itself I’ve only taken 4 vicodin. I discovered yet another reason for me to dislike the stuff. Its bad enough it makes me sick if I don’t eat enough food when I take them, but they also make me unhappy. Apparently depression is a side effect. There’s a reason I don’t do drugs and despite the need to take the vicodin both on the day I saw the Dr (when she rotated my broken arm), as well as the night of and day after my surgery (when the pain was at it’s worst) I quit taking the stuff by two days after surgery. (Drug’s are bad, m’kay!)

Now upon learning I had a new permanent cyborg arm I was dearly hoping it would be magnetic. I really wanted to put a little bunch of bananas refrigerator magnet on my elbow. Frankly I would have laughed hysterically if I could attach magnets to my arm but apparently titanium is not magnetic.

Yvette drove me to the hospital for the surgery. She was awesome! She totally kept me laughing despite the fact I was a little nervous. I was telling her what I wanted done instead of a burial if I died. I was mentally parsing out my belongings and realizing I needed a proper will for my collections and cats in case I died.

I met my prep nurse, my surgery nurse and my doctor came in to cut off the temp cast he put on my arm the Friday before. I was waiting to meet the anesthesiologist. Once he walked in I was upfront with him. He asked how I was, I told him I was nervous and didn’t want to die. I know he didn’t expect it. I explained that at Fountain Valley they almost killed my father during a simple eye surgery because they gave him the wrong anesthesia. He was supposed to come home the night of the surgery but because of the wrong stuff he had to stay for a couple of days to recover.

I looked him in the eye and said, “I don’t want to die, don’t kill me.” Poor guy. He seemed to understand. He walked over to my IV, injected it and immediately knocked me out!

Oh and can I say, I really, really, really don’t like having a damn IV needle put in through my hand! Take it from my arm!

I told the nurse but she did a big song and dance about how it would be better from my hand because she can see the veins easily. This conversation did not instill confidence. So I accepted that she didn’t want to try my arm and let her puncture my hand. I did not like it.

I woke up hours later in the recovery room to some nurse who I’d not met though I apparently thought that I had.(stupid anesthesia!) Suddenly I was being told to get dressed and was immediately wheeled out to Yvette’s car. I had the window open the whole ride home. I wasn’t sure if I was going to react poorly to the anesthesia. Fortunately I was fine.

I’d arrived at the hospital at 3pm and it was 10:30pm when we got home, Mordan was waiting for us. Much like a relay race they did the passing of the Yvonne. Mordan and Yvette met and exchanged info about my condition before Yvette went home to her husband. I spoke a bit with Mordan then got a call from my Satanist checking in on me. Then I spoke with Greg, you know, that cutie I was out with when I dorked out and took a spill and thusly broke my arm? Yeah, that one. Talked with him for a couple of hours then decided it was sleepy night-night time.

Because my Dad was out of town (checking out the Rosicrucian Museum when I called him) Mordan stayed the night and most of the next day with me to make sure everything was ok for me. Other than when the hospital administered meds wore off at 3am (Oh, that was an exceptionally unpleasant pain to wake up to.) and I had to wake her to help get food into me prior to taking the vicodin, there was little to no pain or problems.

Funny thing (not really) turns out the dressing for my arm was wrapped too tight after surgery since my fingers were numb. The Doc called the following day to check on me and he scheduled for me to come in the next day so he could check my dressing and make sure there wasn’t any nerve damage. Angela was a dear sweetheart and drove me to the Dr. The Dr. loosened the wrapping and the feeling returned to my fingers. All’s well.

My friends have been amazing! I totally love them! Many of my friends offered assistance if needed for rides, help at home, shopping or meals. Overall I haven’t really needed too much but when I do they totally come through for me.

Tien Di Kat came by one night with Thai food for dinner so we could catch up. Lauren drove me to the Vampire Dim Sum on Sunday, after which all the girls came over so we could watch vampire porn aka True Blood. And tonight the Other Michelle took me to the Harry Potter Meetup.

Overall I’ve been well, but I find I’m physically exhausted everyday despite trying to rest. I’m actually sleeping 9-10 hours a night. Apparently growing new bone takes a lot of energy. Where’s Madame Pomfrey’s “Skele-Gro” when you need it?

That really wasn't part of the plan...

That really wasn’t part of the plan…

The Plan

An email arrived in my inbox from a company that gets people to attend tv show tapings, you know, be part of the studio audience. I’ve been on this list for a few years now, but rarely get the chance to go. The newest email was to view a taping of MAD TV.

At the time of its arrival I happened to be engaged in a conversation with Greg, a guy I like. I asked if he’d be interested in going and gave the date/time options. It was up near him, a good day for both our schedules, and it should be fun so we made plans to go. I hoped by then I would be over my cold/flu thing.

The Reality

Its only 36 miles to his place from mine, in good traffic it will take about 40 minutes. However, it’s 36 miles north, which means LA and I hoped to arrive at his door by 7pm so that meant facing afternoon traffic, the worst kind.

I left, hoping some of the northbound traffic was done, or nearly done, but still ample time to get up there. I even checked the live traffic map before leaving to make sure my planned route was relatively clear. It was as clear as possible for the time period.

The traffic just sucked! Between multi car accidents and something with the 110 freeway I didn’t arrive until 8pm and we needed to be at the studio by 8:30 so dinner would be delayed.

I arrived at Greg’s place, picked him up and off we went. Fortunately our destination was fairly close by. We arrived at the studio, parked nearby, got out, and locked the car. I noticed a prostitute and a couple of questionable characters nearby. We were talking and perhaps not more than 30 feet from the car. Greg was asking about my week. I have to admit, I get kind of nervous around him and those who know me might find that really unusual. So I’m going to concede that it’s very likely I wasn’t paying enough attention to the area I was walking. Well, given the next event, I obviously wasn’t.

As I tried to recall my week’s activities I stumbled and caught my foot on some broken pavement. I fell down, hard. Apparently I stuck out my left arm to break my fall. I suspect I locked my elbow. I remember seeing my lower arm pushing up past my upper arm and thinking that it wasn’t supposed to look like that. It reminded me of jello. It was gross.

Poor Greg, he had no real idea what happened. All he knew was that I was walking next to him then suddenly I was on the ground and unable to talk. I couldn’t speak! The pain in both my left arm and then the realization of pain in my right knee kept me from even opening my eyes. He was talking to me, asking what happened and where the pain was. I was at once both in agonizing pain and mortified.

Eventually I was able to express pain in my arm and the fear I may have broken it. He attempted to help me up, but at that moment the best I could do was sit up. While I was sitting there doing a mental inventory of the pain Greg was kneeling next to me. I could hear something behind us and he informed me some guy was puking in a trashcan. I thought to myself, “I’m injured and lying on some disgusting sidewalk in Hollywood, with a guy I totally dig, while there’s an old woman prostitute in front of us hiding in the shadows watching us and some guy puking in the trashcan nearby. How fucking romantic!”

Greg helped me up to walk me back to my car. He was a total sweetheart , got me into the passenger side, made sure I had my seat belt buckled and drove me to an ER where he filled out all my paperwork.

While we were waiting we discovered some folks had been there for 3 or more hours and had still not been seen yet. One woman sitting near me asked if I hurt my arm and if I was pregnant.

I was immediately reminded of when my Grammy Victoria, my great aunt on my mother’s side, asked me the same thing years ago at a family party. “Oh Yvonne, are we in the family way?” Through her thick Filipino accent there was a sound of hope in her voice.

“No grammy, I’m just fat.”

But this was a woman with 8 children with a million grand children, and I had gained some weight since she’d last seen me, plus it was shortly after my mom died, so it was a reasonable assumption on her part… I guess.

However, in the ER, this woman was looking for someone to bond with over her situation, something I wasn’t interested in doing. She was there with a 2 day long headache and pregnant. Initially I began to troubleshoot for her asking things like if she’d had water, taken anything for the pain, but then I realized I needed to think about my current situation instead of her, so I stopped.

I decided to try my luck back in OC so I asked them to shred my paperwork and left. My arm seemed to be getting better so I figured we could ice it and I’d be good. Greg got us some dinner and we went back to his place. He helped situate me on his couch, got me a pillow, some Advil, and ice for my arm and we ate dinner.

The hope was that his friend could follow us down so Greg could drive me home and he could ride home with his friend, but his friend had work early the next day, so I opted to keep ice on it and drive myself home. I was more concerned about my right leg not bending well enough to drive than my arm.

Greg wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea, but I needed to get home. As a compromise he decided to drive his car and lead me to the freeway entrance. If we discovered I couldn’t drive then we’d figure something else out, but it was now 2am and I really wanted to be home.

He helped me get situated in the car, buckled me in and off we went. 25 minutes later, after feeding the cats and getting ready for bed I called him to let him know I was home safe. He was a bit surprised to hear from me so soon, but relieved to know I was home safe.

The Diagnosis

The next morning I called my health insurance to change my physician. I had been assigned a Dr that I didn’t want so I changed to a Dr. I wanted and who works with the hospital I wanted. The insurance was kind enough to retro activate the Dr to Nov 1st, otherwise I’d have to wait till Dec 1st.

My friend Yvette was available to take me in. At this point I was working under the hopes my arm and leg were just badly sprained. Since my newly assigned Dr. was not in yesterday I was seen by another doctor. She poked and prodded my knee, which hurt. The she poked and rotated my arm. I screamed! Thus far it was the only time I cried from the pain. X-rays revealed a large gap at the elbow where there shouldn’t be. I was then referred to an orthopedic surgeon.

We left there and went to see the surgeon for a final diagnosis. At this point it was officially broken and I assumed I’d get a cast and go home. The surgeon walked in, asked what happened and then informed me I needed to have surgery. To which I replied, “Are you kidding me?!” He didn’t seem to be joking and wondered why I was the second person that day to ask him that question. He explained he wouldn’t mention it if it weren’t necessary. I understood his point.

Apparently the impact of my fall caused the smaller of the two bones in my lower arm to compact the end of the bone that connects to the elbow. Instead of being somewhat round it’s flat.

He’s hoping to get me into surgery as soon as possible, so I’ll be in on Monday or Tuesday depending on how long it takes to get approval.

The plan is for him to open my arm, assess the situation and decide if I need pins or screws and plates. There was mention of a bone graft taken either from me or a “mostly dead” person. *shrug* Yvette was teasing that I’ll have some dead guys bone grafted onto mine and it’ll posses my arm and do evil things.

Oooooh, evil zombie bone graft!!!!! LOL!

I’ll be in a cast for 3-5 weeks and then have physical therapy after. Fun times!

Though this isn’t the first time I’ve broken a bone, it’s the first time I’ve had a cast or major surgery. I have to admit, I’m nervous about it.

That reminds me; Greg was doing his best to distract me from the pain, so we talked about war wounds. We shared scar stories. LOL!

I really have to thank both Greg and Yvette. They both took super good care of me. Yvette also took me to Costco to get my prescription filled and shop AND she cleaned the litter box and filled the water dispenser for the cats. She even offered to cook, but I told her she’d done enough for me already.

Since it was clear I wasn’t in any condition to go I gave her and her husband, who is one of my childhood friends, my two tickets to see Voltaire and Frankenstein at The Dark Park Festival. I knew they’d enjoy it.

Unfortunately I also won’t be going to see Turisas or to Bats Day at Disneyland this weekend. :(

All in all, despite the unpleasant situation, I’m doing ok and in good spirits.

Everything you never wanted to know about: the Plague, Mango, & Flirting

THE PLAGUE

Ok, perhaps it wasn't quite THAT bad, but it wasn't much fun either. I've been sick for the last three days and I'm finally functional. It started on Wednesday with what I assumed was either my allergies out of control or a mild head-cold. I hoped it was just my allergies and would be able to get them under control by the next day.

Woke up on Thursday... nope, head-cold. Sucky! This meant I had to cancel my plans for that evening and the next!

Friday I woke wondering if I was going to need to call 911. I'm not going to go into graphic details about the symptoms, but let’s just say, I've survived quite an interesting and excruciating selection of ailments in prior experiences to this and was genuinely concerned about this combination and if I would need emergency help. 5 hours later the incredible pain and additional symptoms subsided, somewhat, and I realized that whatever I caught wasn't just a head-cold. Surely it must be the plague! I was concerned at one point that an alien would rip through my abdomen and peer its ugly head out at any moment or that my appendix might be about to burst. Fortunately, not.

Today I woke feeling a whole lot better. I still feel like someone used me for piñata practice with a baseball bat, but other than some muscle fatigue and soreness I'm doing ok. At least I can walk today!

I had to leave the house anyway today... it was that or risk being eat alive by the 5 furry felines who live with me. I ran out of cat food. I ventured off to a pet food store, and since I was already out and about, to a Trader Joe's in Huntington Beach (I love Trader Joe's!).

MANGO

Oooo, I found something new! Dark chocolate covered spicy dried mango! OHMYGAWD! Its very yum.

Mango is one of my absolute favorite fruits and flavors. It even became this weird kind of inside joke thing with me and the ex. One day, we were driving by a Lee's Sandwich and I said, "Ooooh, mango smoothie is love" cause to me, it could be. Somehow that got turned into Mango=Love. As some stupid cutesy thing we'd exchange mango flavored gifts. It was weird, especially because I know he wasn't really into gifts, giving or receiving, or celebrations or anything much fun actually... anyway.

SLOPPY FLIRTING

Hey kids! Don't try this at home... or anywhere else!

Back to my exotic travels to Huntington Beach... I was driving back from Trader Joe's and found a text from Mordan. I was waiting at a red light and texting her back. My radio was blaring Billy Talent and I had the windows slightly open. Four guys pull up in the car next to me. I'm not paying them any attention, why should I? They're yelling for me and honking the horn and I finally realize they're trying to talk to me. I turn off the radio, roll down the window and they ask a series of odd questions.

Front Passenger: "Hey! How's it goin'? So what are you doin'?"
Giving me this "look"...you know that, "hey baby, how you doin'?'" look?

Me: "Um... texting."
I hold up my phone to show... see, texting.

Driver: "Yeah? You are, huh? See I told you guys she was texting!"
At this point I thought I was going to get lectured by them about texting and driving, but I wasn't driving, it was a red light.

Me: "Um, yeah?"
Ok I thought they needed directions which was why I bothered to roll down my window to begin with.

Driver: "Who are you texting?"

Back Passenger 2: "Do you have a daughter?"
Ok, wtf??

Me: "I'm texting a friend."
Why should I tell them anything? I don't know who the heck they are.

Front Passenger: "A friend huh? What kind of friend?"
Driver: "Why are you blowing us off when we're trying to talk with you?"

Me: "Uh... I'm sorry?"
The light changed to green!

Doode, I was just trying to send off this text before the light changed! It was kind of time sensitive... sort of. Ok, maybe not.

Wow! I don't think I've gone through one of those experiences since... wow, since high school! And frankly the guys in the car looked like they'd only been out of high school a couple of years at the most.

Soon as the light changed the windows and the music went back up! They pulled in front of me and wanted me to follow, but I kept going where I was already heading.

I wonder if that kind of sloppy flirting tactic actually works with some girls? Doubtful, but then again, its a bit of a numbers game. If you do it enough times eventually it will work on someone, just not on me.