Casting About

It's pretty much official; I love my cast. This is not about a group of people with whom I have created a special bond, but rather a particular--if unexpected--affinity for the fiberglass currently encompassing my left leg. Truthfully, I would of course prefer to have my leg back to normal; seeing, however, that laws of time travel are greatly restricted, that is not possible. And so for several weeks I have been working with and around splints with varying degrees of artistic ace bandage wrappings. This was all well and good, but I never seemed to quite get the right fit between the cotton wraps and plaster mouldings it was either too tight or sloughed around and caused other problems. Oh and don't get me started on how the ace bandages held up to my shower cast protector. But what else makes me sing the praises of my cast? How do I love thee? Oh, let me count the ways. (Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

First, my cast is prettier. In a cool cobalt my cast is much more able to coordinate and add to any and all of my costume choices.

Second, my cast is slimmer and therefore gives my left leg a slightly svelter look.

Third, my cast slides much more slickly into and--even more importantly--out of my shower cast protector.

Fourth, my cast with all its slenderness allows me a greater variety in my apparel.

Fifth, my cast is lighter which makes it easier to hold aloft throughout the whole day.

Sixth, my cast allows greater ventilation.

Seventh, let's just face it, my cast is cooler. I not only get more comments, but admiring looks as well.

My cast is one of the better developments from last week, for sure. But there are some other oddities about my life at present. For one, every time I go to put things on or pick things up from the floor I can't but help to feel like a giraffe.

It is a bit disconcerting. Also it is not all that comfortable to sleep on my left side most because of where my cast/split hits. But it is a small price to pay to go about in style.

Over all things seem to be going great. I am assured by the doctors that all the screws now in my leg were indeed necessary (it seemed a bit like overkill to me when I saw the x-ray last week) and that my leg is healing beautifully. I might argue there as my view of my leg looked rather hairier, more swollen, and indeed more colorful than it ought. But then again, I am not a doctor. Did I ever mention my Orthopedic Surgeon is a Dr. Baumhauer which apparently means "tree chopper" in German? How appropriate. And, as this seems a popular question of late, I have practically no pain. This indeed has been a continued blessing only interrupted for a couple of days after the surgery. I like to think that it is perhaps an indication that I have a high pain threshold, but I have no conclusive evidence. If only my companion and I had both broken our ankles we could compare . . . but it was not to be. In the meantime I will continue to contemplate my cast's finer attributes and let you do the same.