These photos were taken yesterday morning while standing in my pyjamas in the crisp frost on our balcony, trying cack-handedly to use my SLR camera. I can now manoeuvre my right arm into position so that my fingers can just press the button but holding the camera steady is a challenge. Anyway, this was yesterday’s sunrise. This morning it was wall-to-wall greyness and pouring with rain which, if I was a superstitious person, I’d have taken as an omen…

I had an appointment at the fracture clinic this morning and was convinced that all would be well and that the plaster would come off. It will be six weeks tomorrow that I broke my wrist and six weeks is the average time to heal a break. I was so looking forward to coming home and Washing My Arm. But, no. The orthopaedic consultant said the fracture is healing well but it was a complicated break with lots of bits of bone that need to fuse back together and he doesn’t want to risk removing the plaster too early. It has to stay on for three more weeks. Three!  In my comedy-sketch mind, I threw myself onto the consulting room floor and wailed like a banshee. But in real life, I said ‘Really?! Oh… Ok.’ and sighed and smiled ruefully.

When we got home, David expressed surprise that I was so disappointed. He thinks I’m pragmatic about these things as I usually give a good impression of being prepared for the worst and am sanguine in testing situations. I hadn’t really analysed it before but it is one of the many grown-up disguises. I pretend to be prepared for the worst so I don’t look like a prize idiot when the worst happens. I’m all ‘Of course I knew that would happen so I didn’t get my hopes up’ when on the inside I’m shouting ‘Noooooooo!’ and crying and cursing. It doesn’t lessen the disappointments in life, it just saves face a little and protects others from the full force of raw emotion. It’s the classic swan-like behaviour – all calm and serene on the surface but paddling furiously underneath.  It’s what most of us do, isn’t it?

So, it’s pants and frustrating and disappointing but I will give myself a talking to, regain my sense of perspective and get over it. It is winter, the time for hunkering down; there are always books to read; I am able walk and talk and eat and drink and do plenty of other good things. Oh, and the dog has just been sick on the carpet and, err, sorry (not sorry), I can’t clear it up! I’m feeling better already 🙂

Wishing you a lovely weekend.

PS My next blog post will not mention broken bones. I’m sure you’re as bored of it as I am!

29 thoughts on “Crestfallen

  1. Oh no, hard luck Sam. Just hope you have plenty to read at home. 😉 I know what you mean about hiding disappointment and thinking about it, I hide a lot of emotions… including happiness! Silly, isn’t it! Best of luck with the next three frustrating weeks.

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  2. Hallo Sam, I am so sorry that you have to spend another interminable three weeks with the dreaded plaster. That is really bad luck. I broke my wrist just over three years ago and I do understand the limitations and frustrations! I also recognise that I was REALLY lucky that, having survived the horrendous Biers Block (sp?) procedure which didn’t work, they decided to put a metal bit in my wrist. I think its titanium and shaped like a bottle opener. From that point on I was able to do without the plaster, which is not what you want to hear! Sorry! On the upside, your photos of the sunrise are beautiful, and if you are about to be blanketed in more snow, then hunkering down is the only thing for it! At least it’s not spring or summer time when you would really want to be playing in the garden! Best wishes to you from the east coast of Scotland – it was -6 degrees here this morning! Quite chilly! Have a good weekend. Amanda

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Amanda. I’m wondering whether I should have opted for the surgery after all but hey! Hope you’re keeping warm in Scotland – it’s cold here but no snow.


  3. I don’t think you need to give yourself a talking to! Of course you are disappointed, it’s bloody annoying! Better another three weeks though than risking taking it off too early. It will pass eventually though the three weeks will seem long, and won’t you be happy then!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Oh Sam, I’m sorry, another three weeks, I can imagine how frustrated you are. Hang on in there, I hope you’re not in too much pain now at least. Well done on the photos though, nicely done. Wishing you a good weekend, although you’re probably tired of taking it easy by now. CJ xx

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  5. Sam, sorry to read that the plaster is there for another 3 weeks. It is for the best, although right now it must be really frustrating and annoying. Hang in there! Hope to catch up soon. xx

    Liked by 1 person

  6. It IS disappointing when you are all psyched up. (I did a 24 hour blood pressure test, have the scars on my arm to prove it. Then – sorry – the machine didn’t record anything. Next slot is two weeks away. Maybe we will finish together?)

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  7. What a shame, but it really will be over quickly and you will be better ready for the off. Not comparing you or anything, but Sadie our dog has just spent the last 3 weeks with a cone round her head after an eye op and it has been tragic to watch her bash her way through the world. It’s off part time now and soon your cast will be gone. Meanwhile, nice photos!

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  8. Oh no Sam, but better safe then sorry, you’re going to need your arm strong and secure. I hope you’ve got some physio booked for when the plaster does come off (you will be amazed at how much muscle you have lost). Books: I’ve just finished “Winter” by Ali Smith which I loved and was thrilled to find “How To Be Both” in my daughter’s box of books this week. Yesterday I started The Red Haired Woman” by the Turkish writer Orhan Pamuk for my first book group meet next week and I am dipping in and out of Kate Mosse’s ghost stories (“The Mistletoe Bride”) and the poems of Sasha Dugdale (a new to me South Downs poet), And no, I’m not doing any gardening either and am letting nature have the upper hand. I go for a daily wander to see the snowdrops pushing through the rufty tufty grass and the buds on the new apple trees and to pick spinach and kale, but I am content to watch and wait. I am sure you will look back on this time of enforced stillness fondly. Sarah x

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It’s lovely to hear from you, Sarah. I hope all is well with you. According to my consultant, I will need ‘vigorous physio’… Thank you for the book recommendations. It is a good time of year for watching and waiting and this enforced slow-down is a lesson in humility and patience so I must accept it x


  9. Hi Sam, so sorry to hear you’ve got to struggle on for three more weeks, but, as others have said, you need it strong and working, not vulnerable and wimpy!
    So, in the meantime curl up with another book, safe in the knowledge that good things come…..

    Liked by 1 person

  10. I recognise the frustrated/ disappointed/ pissed off reaction to having to wait a bit longer- it’s hard to keep working with limits when you’re natural way is to be out and active. I empathise Sam. We use comfrey oil for breaks- it’s greaf stuff. Country name of knitbone. M used it for his broken wrist and elbow, both complicated joints, and the consultant was impressed at his recovery. Worth a try? Sending you permission to rage (and then to be stoic) 😉 x

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