Thursday, March 26, 2009

he asked if he was like emeril, so i lied and said yes

so yesterday was a bit painful on the ole' mummy hand front: right around 2pm, the damn wrist swelled up inside the cast like it was trying to pull a "Hulk" and bust its ass out. i can understand the sentiment - this whole cast situation really puts a cramp in my style. but seriously, i couldn't get the swelling to go down (at least that's what i think was happening, but i don't know for sure because MY ARM IS STUCK IN A CAPSULE OF DEATH). no amount of ridiculous air-holding or finger-waggling or ibuprofen-taking helped, and the swelling was causing major pain and serious claustrophobia - i felt like the cast was crawling up my fucking arm on its way to my throat.

everyone humor me for a second here - you know the little round bone that sticks up on the top of your wrists? i think its the distal end of the ulna bone, but who the hell knows? (yes i know doctors know)((and smarter people in general))

well, i'd like you to take your finger and push down on that little lump for me. push REAL hard! now, you notice how the bone feels pliable and spongy? how it mooshes down into your arm when you press it like a button? well that sponginess is what allows for my massive swollen arm to fit inside this rock-hard cast...

wait, what? yours doesn't smoosh down like a sponge? hmmm well guess what? NEITHER DOES MINE! oh my fucking god, i thought that bump was going to be shattered into smithereens last night by the internal pressure of the tomb...er...cast.

until yesterday, the swelling and pain was mostly gone, and i'm not sure what kicked off this latest reign of mummy hand terror. i have been using the arm more frequently, as well as my fingers on that hand (not the thumb, because "the thumb bone's connected to the wrist bone", and therefore utter thumb immobilization is necessary. i pretty much HAVE to use the arm at least a little bit; otherwise i'd need a co-worker to pull up my pants and button them. i'd need someone to open my container of powder fiber every day. hell, i cant even stack two papers together and staple them with just one hand (and that's probably a good 2/5 of what my job entails). i NEED the mummy hand to prop shit against.

i told gray that he's got to start cooking or we'll starve to death because we're already $100 over our food budget for March, and that is entirely due to the mummy hand. normally i'd be cooking dinner every night which would give us leftovers for lunch. but "can open the fridge and drool inside" is about the extent of my cooking abilities at the moment. HOW THE HELL DO AMPUTEES EAT, MAN?

i was feeling ultra ambitious on tuesday and decided to make some chili - filling and guaranteed leftovers! somehow i managed to chop up an onion and some garlic, using mummy hand to stabilize the vegetables. then i pulled out some ground turkey and all the spices. thats when i realized there were at least 4 separate cans of tomato and bean products that I CAN NOT OPEN by myself. gray wasn't due home for three more hours, and i'd just spent 45 minutes chopping a damn onion. POORLY. plus, i kind of tweaked my wrist at one point when the onion started to roll around.

last night gray and i finished the chili together. it took for fucking ever, but it got done. i am a bit of a neurotic kitchen spaz, and gray just about blew my mental fuses with his rookie skills and slow-ass chopping. but i was equally charmed by his complete ineptitude as i was frustrated by it (he says the same of my bossiness and scrunched up faces). there was CELERY AIR GUITAR! there was SLOPPY CHOPPING! there was TURNING THE CAN OPENER ONE TIME AND EXPECTING THE BEANS TO DRAIN OUT A 1/4 HOLE IN THE LID! while STILL HOLDING THE CAN BY THE CAN OPENER! there were SPLATTERS! and CRUMBS! and GENERAL KITCHEN AREA CHAOS!

but the chili was decent, and we didn't have to buy dinner. and as we sat down to eat (at 8:00), we had this discussion:

gray: thanks for your help with dinner.

cat: thank YOU for your help - you did all the work!

gray: meh, i was just your tool.

cat: yes, honey - you are definitely a tool.

5 more weeks of this? it might be easier to starve to death.