Tag Archives: wrist


the one armed banditI think I got a bit carried away with the dumper truck in work last week.

I’d been allowed out the office (my laptop at home, Jeremy Kyle and coffee on tap) and let loose on one.

The steering wheel has a funny knobbly thing on it, so I happily swung it round and round, little realising the damage it would do to my arm and wrist.

Fast forward a couple of days and I’m in agony. I’ve sprained my right arm and I am once more off work. Getting to be a bit of a habit?

The Teenager has been pressed into service like never before – laundry, getting dishes out the oven, sweeping through the house. Much wailing and gnashing of teeth, ‘I am not your servant’ (stomp stomp) being a favourite retort, with me responding, ‘Oi! I can still flick the internet off with one finger, so ner, ner, ner, ner, ner.’

Anyway, I am moping around the house feeling rather sorry for myself. Who knew arms could be so useful? There is so much I just can’t do without reaching for the painkillers and ‘ooofing’ out loud. Shampooing my hair is farcical. Driving is off-limits and holding a book to read is deadly. I feel as if I’ve been snowed-in without the ‘yay, we’re in the middle of a national crisis!’ excitement that normally follows half an inch of the white stuff.

I took the bus into town yesterday to meet friends for a sushi lunch, and try as I might, I just can’t use chopsticks left-handed. So I gave it a go with my right, wincing, and I just about managed (I was hungry – 6 plates). I’ve bought myself a tubi-grip wotsit and it helps a little. I’ve weaned myself off the strong painkillers after I started dreaming whilst awake. In short, I am Fed Up.

The upside is, I have cleaned out the ‘whatever’ drawer, compiled an Amazon wish list, caught up with all my Scandi-crime programmes on my Sky Planner and got to grips (ha!) with my ‘iPad for Complete and Utter Idiots’ book. I am now semi-fluent in Danish and Swedish and have found my can opener. Plus I have a bunch of useless apps.

I had to text in sick this morning, something I hate doing. The boss responded, ‘no worries, we’re having a lovely fry-up in the cafe’. Meh. If the promise of that won’t get me back to work, nothing will. 5:2 diet be damned..

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Muddy Hell…

The Teenager had a rugby match on Sunday. After the snow thawed, the torrential rain came so we were convinced the match would be cancelled. A pitch inspection was due the day before and after the groundsman had waded through inches of mud, he declared the pitch good to play. Of course.

The Teenager had a lift with the trainer and off he went with his Lucozade and boot bag. Three hours later he was returned, a huge blob of mud standing on the doorstep.  The only un-muddy bit of him was a grubby bandage wound tightly round his wrist, which he held out sadly with a pained expression.

He’d only played for ten minutes (so who knows how much more mud he could have gathered if he’d played full time), as someone had trod on his wrist during a try and he was out for the rest of the game. Anyway, he stripped, I picked up the sodden clothes and chucked them in the machine as he squelched his way to the shower. Within ten minutes, there was a yell:



‘I’m in aaaaagony. But we won, 43-0.’

‘Glad you won! Ok, I’ll bandage it up, don’t worry. Then you can go and do some homework.’

‘Too sore. I’m dying’.

‘Ok, just do it quietly’.

Believe me, I was sympathetic, but this continued in a loop all day. He’d appear in front of me, a wan-faced vision. He’d lie on the sofa, asking for help to pick up the remote, but oddly not needing the same help to play on his iphone.  I made him a hot chocolate with a dollop of Fluff on top and helped him pack his bag.

Monday. I bandaged, unbandaged and bandaged his wrist so many times I lost count. It got in the way of his x-box controller. I got a bigger bandage (ha!) and wrapped that round his wrist instead. I’m not a horrible mum, honestly, but my nerves were stretched.

One sulky Teenager plus one (slight) injury has made for a very unhappy household these last few days. To top it all, after helping him with his school jumper yesterday morning and packing his school bag once more, I offered to bandage his wrist again. ‘Nah, don’t worry, it felt better on Monday, I just enjoyed wearing it, everyone was asking me about it at school……’

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