It’s been over 2 months since I broke my arm. Each day is still peppered with a variety of challenges, particularly with my hygiene and getting dressed but it’s certainly more manageable than just a month ago. I go to physical therapy twice a week and am able to lift my arm a bit more–enough to wash my face now and even to create an awful-looking pony tail. But that’s something!

Every 2-3 weeks I get another x-ray and have become quite familiar with what the inside of my arm looks like. Unfortunately, my last x-ray this past week was extremely discouraging. Three weeks ago it was clear that my arm was starting to heal. You could see this white bit in my x-ray where the bone was healing and it wasn’t just a black void. But now, after another three weeks have passed—nothing. Not one thing has changed. There should have been signs that it was healing more, but there were none.

My doctor tried to be positive and said that it was good that the plate or screws hadn’t moved and it didn’t look worse. But that really wasn’t much of a consolation to me. She said it was time to beef up on Vitamin D3 (5,000 IU) and try and get this bone to heal. My daily dose of vitamins and extra calcium and D3 just wasn’t cutting it.

So since things didn’t look that great, I decided to ask the question I really needed to. “Will I really get my full range of motion back?”

She didn’t say no, but she didn’t say absolutely yes. When I look at my x-ray and see that one particular screw pointing towards my breast and know that that screw is helping to hold me together, just makes me wonder if I’ll ever be able to freely move my right arm back and forth and stretch my lovely limbs out like the orangutan I know I am. She told me when I stretch my arm across my body to my left side, that movement may always be impaired. But I might not have to have the plate in my arm forever…if I’m particularly sensitive to it and it drives me nuts after a year or two. Or I may have to live with it despite the sensitivity if my bones don’t heal enough.

So…..well….fuck.

I teared up just a smidge as she’s telling me these things and tried to be positive. I told her I was going to the beach with my kiddo and my niece and her family and try to enjoy myself. And I did. Then I didn’t do my physical therapy exercises that night because I was just too pissed and disappointed and frustrated. When I told my physical therapist the next day what the doc said, I did cry then. And my PT was just as distraught and discouraged. But we sucked it up and carried on.

The last few days I’ve had off from work and have faithfully done my exercises morning and evening. I’ve taken my huge dose of D3 every day and have tried to not dwell on the “what ifs.” I’ve been repeating my father’s mantra, “one day at a time” and trying to channel every bit of his laid back attitude. I don’t always succeed but I try.

This week as we dive back into school schedules and all the juggling that entails, I’ll be murmuring “Keep Calm and Heal On!” and “One Day at a Time” and I’m sure by Friday, “Where’s my glass of wine?”

Have a good one, friends. May we all heal just a little bit this week.