I had an appointment with my orthopedic specialist today. The good news is I got to take off my gross, smelly splint. The bad news? Well, my collarbone, as of 8:30 this morning, looks like this:
Yeah, it’s still completely broken. And after talking to my doctor and his nurse practitioner, it sounds like it’s going to look like this from now on, only the healing will eventually turn into a big lumpy mass as the two broken bones merge together with the help of some calcium and my body’s natural healing process. Kinda cool despite it all.
This is the second time I’ve broken this same bone; the first time happened when I was 6 and my brother shoved me into a tree. I don’t remember it being this nasty-looking before, so I’m thinking it was probably just fractured and healed with little damage. Still, this just looks ugly. But I guess you’ll never really notice by looking at me.
The other option was to fix it with surgery. But if there’s anything I fear, it’s the thought of being cut open to “fix” my problems.
After my appointment today, I realized I could have ended up saving myself some serious cash by just skipping the ER since the splint did nothing more but make it impossible to shave and put on deodorant, and all the doctor did was give me drugs to make the pain more bearable. Sigh.
In the meantime, here I am, in all of my imperfect glory—sitting out of derby for 8 weeks until I’m all back to normal. Well, as normal as a girl like me can be, anyway.
Until then I’ll continue to deflect the question I was hearing regularly anyway: “You’re awfully little to be playing roller derby, aren’t you?”, and I’ll leave you with this little reminder of why I can be completely bad-a at a measly little 5’3″: