A Callus Affair

We are currently enjoying week 6 of our adventure in skeletal fractures, with the rib pain becoming more of a footnote (with the exception of the pain they deliver when I'm riding in the passenger seat when my wife is driving and she makes one of her famous sharp left turns), and the humerus shaft now firmly joined by what the experts label the "Hard Callus" - a pre-mineralized cartilage profused with blood vessels and bone-building cells.

Rather than use a cast, the doctor decided in my case the best option was to immobilize my upper arm using something called a Sarmiento brace. This is a hard plastic clamshell sort of thing that secures with Velcro. It provides a Stormtrooper-esque level of protection: not enough to stop blaster fire penetration but plenty to keep the bones from shifting or getting bumped around.

My most recent X-ray was two weeks ago, and though my untrained eye would argue that the bones are still entirely separated, I was assured that there was callus formation going on. The fact that my arm aches nearly all the time is a good indicator that there's a lot happening; more than can be seen via X-ray.

Also, my arm doesn't wobble or crunch any more when I shift it. That is a huge relief. I had imagined a few years of living with an arm bone that would never actually join together and solidify, just forever flap around like a gooseneck filled with gravel. Every time I'd bump my arm it would send me through the roof in agony. There was one time I walked right into a door frame with my right arm, and the pain nearly made me pass out. And of course I will always remember when Michael decided to plop himself next to me while I was sitting on the couch, and landed his butt directly on my forearm. I swear I saw actual stars that time. His explanation? He had "forgotten" that I had a broken arm.

Each incident like this, and there were a lot of them (most entirely my fault), led me to believe that I'd never be able to heal naturally, that I would forever be re-setting the process back to square one, and that I'd need surgery like pins or a rod or an external fixator.

But no, despite everything, the healing process has gone very well, and I'm right where I should be by this point.

Physical Therapy is my new dread. To be fair, the fact that I'm at this stage now and I'm able to do the work is very encouraging.

But it hurts!

I cannot bend my arm down to my side due to tendon shortening, so that is an area of focus. I cannot squeeze my hand to grip things, so that is an area of focus. It hurts to turn my hand over, bend my wrist or touch fingers together. I cannot write or lift my hand to my mouth. All of these simple things will need weeks of work to re-establish.

It's a long road ahead.