Annie and I went to Dr. Soto’s office at noon for the preop appointment. He came into the room and stood by the door while he told us about the operation. That took about five minutes (with a couple questions from us) and then he sent me over to get a final x-ray.
I’ve lost count of how many x-rays I’ve had since February 18, but I imagine it is well over 50. I no longer need a night light in my room as my glow provides sufficient guidance to get me safely from my bed to the bathroom and back. Too bad I wasted the money on the vasectomy two years ago as I’m sure all this radiation would have had the same effect.
We shot these two and then I went back to the room where Annie was waiting. Dr. Soto showed up a couple minutes later and pulled the x-rays up onto the screen. He brought up the straight-on shot, which always looks perfect, and then brought up the one that is shot from a 25° angle. This is the one that always shows the area where no bone has grown across the gap.
“Hold on one second,” Soto said, clenching his mouse.
He clicked on the ZOOM icon and dialed in on the troubled spot.
“You are throwing down some bone, my friend.”
It was almost in slow motion — the computer screen, the words out of his mouth, the poking in my side from Annie’s elbow. I looked at the screen and saw what I had been hoping to see for the last six weeks. It wasn’t a lot, nor was it very dense. But I’ll be damned, where there had only been black space, there was white bone.
Six days earlier I had made the decision, based upon Soto’s logic, that if nothing had grown in six weeks, it was time to help it along. I mean, the other side of the break had healed so well that it was undetectable in the x-ray!
What’s going on here? Was it a miracle? Grand intervention of the holiest kind? Every time Craig worked on me I was able to close my hand, and I didn’t understand that — how could it work? But that much bone, out of the blue, after six weeks of zero growth? One thing’s for sure, trying to break it down is way beyond the scope of this blog, or my brain.
I called Craig from the doctor’s parking lot and told him. He let out whoot that probably damaged my cell phone headset. He was at work so I didn’t get to go into too much detail with him, but I wanted to let him know what happened.
So what does this mean?
One thing for sure is that this Thursday I will not be having surgery! Dr. Soto rescheduled it for two weeks plus a few days and we will take a look again on Monday the 23rd. If bone is continuing to grow I will be free and clear and only need to look forward to having the pin removed. If growth has stopped, or isn’t proceeding fast enough, we will have to talk about the surgery again.
The tossing and turning that started with flyng off my mountain bike hasn’t really stopped. Main difference is that now it takes place without me wearing a helmet.
Annie and I went to have lunch at Tortilla Grill and talked about how happy we were. Shocked, blown away, puzzled… oh, and realized it was our 19th wedding anniversary
At 5:30 this evening I went to see a local guy who everyone loves. He does NeuroMuscular Therapy (see what that is, click here) and he abused me for about an hour. Deep, strong, fast — moving blood and fluid from my hand, up my arm, on to wherever it belongs. After about 30 minutes he had me bend my fingers. When I get to as far as I could move them, he gets about 6 inches from my face and told me to keep squeezing.
“This is where it really hurts,” I told him.
“It won’t hurt anymore… you are just afraid it will.”
Really?
I kept squeezing — trying to bring it into a full fist — but they were too swollen. He was right, however, it didn’t hurt.
That was truly amazing. One of the most predictable downsides during this entire journey has been the sharp shooting pain between the distal and proximal joints of my middle and ring finger. So somewhere during the last 30 minutes (possibly most painful of my life), he had done something to make that go away.
The true test — the one that no one has passed yet — would be this: could I close my hand in the morning?
Easter Sunday? Last thing I remember it was February 18 and I went off for a bike ride… time flies with a broken clavicle.
Annie and I were trying to think if we have ever been in town on Easter. We told Zed about Easter egg hunts and he had no idea what we are talking about, so I’m thinking this is a first for him. Great party with lots of friends and kids scouring the ground for colorful versions of what we force feed them for breakfast every morning. It really is all about packaging.
I had arranged with my friend Craig to meet after our party for the third healing session he wanted to do on me. It was, once again, remarkable.
Similar to last time, hand closure was very simple and painless. My right arm easily moved straight up in parallel with my left arm. 30 minutes earlier I could scarcely get my elbow to the level of my chin. I cannot explain it, he doesn’t try to explain it, but it is very intense. There is no box in my brain where it all can fit neatly. At best, I feel like I’m cramming the experience in, holding it down with my knee and rolling some packaging tape over the top so none of the good feelings fall out.
It’s night time now and my hand is still moving freely, but I do worry that in the morning it will be stiff, swollen, as it has been after the last few experiences. I don’t know what makes it work, so it reasons that I have no clue on why it doesn’t stick. I do enjoy the limber, fluid, graceful hours.
I haven’t shot a “before” video because I never really feel like saying, “Annie, get the camera… I can’t move my hand or arm and I’d like to capture the moment”. But, as has become the tradition with the last few entries, here is a short “after” video.
I am scheduled for preop surgery tomorrow morning. I’ll meet with Dr. Soto and he’ll explain the whole procedure and we will have one more chance to look at x-rays. Craig was told that he had to pray for me three times — I’m really glad we got all three in before this meeting. If something is going to help, I really want to make sure I give it a chance.
The thought of having two new holes poked into me, and the following week of beginning the healing process all over again, has me pretty close to broken down. At the Easter party today, it was tough to keep it light and fun… so I pretty much just shut up and watched. How different a healthy version of Barry would have been a today’s party with a couple dozen kids, a trampoline, hula hoops, and whatever crazy toys I would’ve added to the mix. I’m going to need a new batch of optimism before long. Got to go check eBay.
Yeah, that was way too much to do yesterday. I slept better than I have in a couple weeks so that is certainly an upside. But my right shoulder was hurting like the doctor always told me it might.
One day I will read this list of what brought on the pain and tiredness, and I’m sure I will laugh. Here it is: I did the dishes, set the table, did little bit of electrical work on my van, worked in the Raspyni office for two hours, played with the kids down on the play structure for half an hour, and cleaned up the garage a little bit. A pretty mellow routine in my pre-accident life
I tried sleeping with the tight glove on my right hand and made it for about two hours. That thing is way too intense to leave on all night. This morning my fingers were swollen real tight. I sat in a chair in the morning and rubbed them down with lotion for about 20 minutes and got them feeling okay again. I’m going to juggle again today — every day — because it does feel like it’s good for my fingers.
I’m at the point right now where I am able to do a fair amount of stuff with my right hand. I hope that after Thursday’s surgery I don’t regress. I don’t believe I should as all we are doing is adding a lot of healthy bone marrow to my collarbone. There will of course be that uncomfortable five day no shower zone — yuck! I have to make sure I go in good and clean this time I was unable to move before my last surgery, let alone a shower. I haven’t even done the math on how many days I went without one. Heads up to my fellow clavicle sufferers: if possible, go into surgery clean!
Tomorrow makes seven weeks since my accident. In some ways it seems to have gone by so fast. I never imagined that I would have a second surgery… even when he mentioned that it was a possibility if the bone didn’t reconnect. I guess that says something about my positive outlook — and also something about what it’s actually worth
I will end with a little video for your viewing pleasure.
In one of my first entries into this blog back in February (when I was still naive), I wrote that only 5% of clavicle fractures required surgery. At that point I was still sure that I was going to be part of the 95%.
Well the innocence has been demolished and the remodeled reality looks like this: bone marrow grafting surgery is set for 7:30 a.m. on April 12th.
Cry. Whimper. Sob. Poor me poor me…
I am really ready for it to all be over, but what does that matter, right? I must not be done with whatever this has to teach me. I’m cool with that.
Everybody has something in their life that they want to stop, or go, or change, or be bigger — whatever it is. Sometimes we get to write the book of our life and sometimes we have to read it. This whole experience is turning out to be a real page turner.
I had a wildly productive day — even juggle three clubs for awhile! That felt really good.
My eyes are closing and my voice is slurring which makes speaking into this microphone a real hassle. This blog will be continued at a more lucid time.
Wow! An entire week without blogging. Am I getting too casual, too laissez-faire about this entire recovery? Have I gone soft and sunken into a codeine induced slumber which keeps me from donning the headset microphone in talking about life while my computer screen fills with words? Have I been up at 5:30 in the morning biking, running, or swimming?
Well, the good and the bad news is that the answer to all the above questions is, “NO!”.
NOTE: I am going to ramble on about life for a couple of paragraphs. I know a lot of people are reading this who are also going through recovery of a broken clavicle. Scroll down a way and I will have a bold heading that says, “let’s talk clavicle”, if this is too boring for you.
I went to see Lino last Friday in Sacramento. He was great, of course. Annie and Zed and Kieran came along as we had a fun day planned in Sacramento. One minute a beastly therapist was twisting my swollen finger while I cried out in pain, and a few minutes later I’m sitting on a choo-choo train at Funderland. The excitement never stops.
Sunday was Zed’s fifth birthday party. Perfect weather, a huge sushi boat, and a house and yard full of friends. Not a bad way to spend a weekend. 15 kids got along so well, no one could believe it. The older they get the easier it gets. For a least a few more years.
LET’S TALK CLAVICLE
Getting a lot a good movement from the physical therapy. I have the exercises from the Hospital PT, and the stuff that Lino likes me to do. Saturday I went swimming with the Masters. It was my first time back with them and it felt so good. I did 42 laps, about a third of what makes a good workout normally, but it felt at least three times better than not doing it so — definite net gain. It is a mix of breaststroke, freestyle, and back. It’s funny, on the freestyle my right fingers drag across the water during recovery and entry is just past my ear. Those are two features of a really good stroke. I’ll have to see if I carry that over to my normal stroke when I get back to it.
Yesterday I went to a woman who does lymphatic therapy. She put these very tight fitting gloves on my hand and did all sorts of manipulation of my arm, shoulder, lymphatic system. Tonight my friend is coming over to lay his hands on me and pray again. The last time he did it was the only time I have been able to make a fist since this happened. I am leaving no stone unturned in my journey back.
So here comes the bummer. You didn’t think it was going to be all good, did you?
Yesterday I went to see Dr. Soto for my third biweekly postoperative appointment. The straight on x-ray of my clavicle looked really good, but the one that shoots up at the 25° angle showed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that one side of my fracture is not knitting back to the bone.
In the interest of long-term strength, we decided it would be best to do a bone graft from my leg as soon as possible.
“Wait a minute my big bald friend… it’s all been sounding so good. You’re not going back under the knife, you’re almost healed, ready to get back on the road and having fun.”
For maximum comic effect, this is where I would tell you that I’m kidding. But no such luck today. Surgery is being scheduled as we speak
I think it’s actually a good thing. One of the breaks has thrown down so much bone that x-ray doesn’t even show where it was. The other break has had literally no change. This bone graft will certainly speed the recovery, as opposed to waiting, and waiting, and waiting… As we clearly established throughout this blog, I am not an extremely patient man.
I went swimming again today at the noontime masters meeting. Only made it 36 laps before I had a very definite feeling that I should stop. I hadn’t taken a pain pill since five in the morning. I’ll swim one more day this week and try to get to 1500 yards.
Since I wrote that last paragraph, my friend Craig came by and did his hands-on healing. I could tell you how amazing it was, but I thought it would be better to toss in this short video clip.
He wants to come by and do it one more time before I get my preoperative x-ray. I am all about it. It was very powerful, relaxing, and as you can see, undeniably effective. Craig doesn’t try to explain it — and I didn’t ask any questions.
That’s the life stuff. That’s the healing stuff.
Stay safe.
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