My doctor's office has been giving me the run-around lately. I've been trying to track down the cause of my back pain, and the x-rays and MRI haven't shown anything amiss. My doc and I were supposed to have a phone consult about it Wednesday evening but she never called me due to last-minute emergencies, and now I have to wait until Monday for the next available phone consult.
I had been hoping to get some answers for the unrelenting pain I've been in for a long time now. I was pinning a lot on getting some answers Wednesday and maybe moving ahead with a pain relief program of some type, and instead I got stood up with no explanation. After I got off the phone with my doctor's receptionist Thursday morning I was so fed up, frustrated and furious that I slammed the heel of my hand into the wall really hard -- really, really, really hard; so hard I thought I'd fractured something.
Did I mention that there was a lot of screaming and crying too? There was a lot of screaming and crying, not just hand-slamming. There was a lot of very unladylike swearing involved. I wish I could say it was cathartic, but it didn't feel so at the time.
I had had it that this was a lower priority for my doctor. I had had it with her dragging her feet with coming up with some answers. I reached my limit and just snapped. To hell with being brave and being a hero about it all. I'm sick of suffering. It was either slam the wall or go insane, osteoporosis be damned.
Good thing it was just the sheetrock of the bedroom wall and not the tile wall in the bathroom.
D. took me to the urgent care center that evening, where they x-rayed my hand. They had a computer problem, though, and couldn't read the results well enough to say right away whether I broke my hand or not. So they put a huge cumbersome splint on my hand to keep it stable and said they'd have to call me Friday (today).
And this morning I got the official word that is my hand is not broken, but I still have to keep the splint on for a week. It doesn't hurt at all in the splint, so I think I'll be good to go.
I've discovered that it's really hard to wash you hair with one hand. With my luck, I'll bet it'll take me all week to get some skill at doing it, and by then the splint can come off and I can use both hands again. Being out of sync is the story of my life.
UPDATE: The urgent care center doc called today and told me I could take the splint off, and use a removable wrist support instead. Yay.