Last day at work, Michael’s new cast

Today was my last day at CTV. I don’t think the reality has sunk in yet. I figure that will happen on Monday, after I’ve dropped the kids off at school, and I don’t go on to work.
I decided to leave even though I don’t have a new job to go to. I can’t move on anyway: not until Michael’s leg is all better in May. There were many reasons for my departure, but Michael’s broken leg brought it all to a head (or leg). There are very many people there that I will sorely miss.

I don’t think I’ll ever be flippant about a broken leg again. Poor kid has had a difficult time of it, and so have I. Home hasn’t been so bad: we adjusted. But school was difficult. It’s not built for wheelchair access, other than a ramp up to the main doors, which are kept locked. Often, we’re lucky enough to catch someone walking by who opens them for us, but as luck would have it not today in the pouring rain: had to leave Michael outside to soak while I ran around to the side to get into the school and open the door for him. And don’t even ask about lugging the damn wheelchair up to the third floor!

I still don’t like fracture clinics. I’ve been making the appointments for 7:30 am, so I can get to work at a reasonable time. Then on my very last day at work, they decide to change the cast. I had expected this next week. We weren’t out of there until after 10am, and I didn’t get to work until 11am. Ended up having a stressed out day, changing all our plans and having Reid come home mid-day to pick up Michael from school, so I could finish transferring my work to others.

Although I don’t like the clinic, the people who work there have been very nice lately. Those who actually remove the cast and replace it are a joy. What bothers me the most is the endless waiting. Michael becomes withdrawn and exhausted from the wait. (When they took the cast off, Michael and I noticed a green X on his foot. I think they used it as a marker when they set the leg. But the technician told Michael it was so that the doctor would know which leg was broken. ‘Doctors are dumb.’ 😀 )

They use a mini-circular saw to cut the cast off.. To me, it felt like watching someone opening a present. I was dying to see that leg after 4 weeks. But Michael hated it. It’s loud and frightening I think he expected to see a horrible, gnarled leg emerge from the cast. His leg is skinny, and weak, but it’ll be just fine. He became pale, and when they put a cold cloth over his forehead, he pulled it over his eyes and refused to watch until they finished putting the new cast on. Now we get to sign it all over again. Michael gets to choose the cast colour: like last time, he chose glow-in-the-dark. Way cool.

The new cast goes over his knee in the front, and is cut away from the knee in the back. He’ll have a difficult couple of days as he builds back his thigh strength (he could barely walk on the crutches – back to square one, but I doubt it will last long.)

We’ve had some interesting signatures (‘Fragile, this end up’, ‘Good luck with the play’, ‘Out cast!’). We’ll have to get new signatures: Reid drew a picture of a broken bone (blood and all) and wrote ‘Take a break’ under it. I wrote ‘Something is afoot’ near his foot. I told Reid ‘Where’s Andrew when you need him??’ Andrew is a master with puns.

If you’d like us to sign Michael’s cast on your behalf, let me know. Leave the message and the name we should sign it as from. We can post a picture afterwards!

3 thoughts on “Last day at work, Michael’s new cast”

  1. As much as I would like to make one of my usual extremely funny japes here, I can’t.

    I have the usual aches and pains for someone my age, but I can’t really complain. No one listens.

    (Sorry, it just slipped out. Said the bishop to the actress. Damn.)

    Over and out.

    Said the actress to th

  2. I’m hoping to be able to sign Michael’s cast in person next week! Please Please do leave a small space for me!

  3. Yeah, they really go at it with the saw, eh? Jon was so excited to get his off three years back, until the saw started buzzin’..

    Don’t like the clinics, eh? I know where you’re coming from. Be glad that Michael’s situation is acute. We enjoy three…no, four…kinds of clinic visits, each in it’s own rhythm of every six to nine months. Yuck.

    So get well soon, Michael, and stay away from the clinics!

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