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Friday, June 13, 2014

But Doctor, I like my old lady arms.

Well, maybe I don't exactly like them but I have gotten used to them. My arms have cradled  beautiful babies, hugged many dear friends,  embraced an uxorious husband, rearranged furniture in the middle of the night, shoveled their share of dirt, painted more than a few walls indoors and out, stirred a few hundred batches of cookies,  all those things I took for granted.

Until an instant of carelessness brings one face to face with a orthopedic surgeon who specializes in upper extremities.

When Dr. Kai casually mentioned the surgery would lengthen the operated arm a little, a centimeter perhaps, I suppressed all vanity and said it would be a small price to pay for less pain and more  function. But I did come home and measure my arm length. Couldn't wait to tell him that arm is already shorter than the other so an extra centimeter might be a good thing.

But on my last visit he suggested "the appearance" of the arm might be - did he say - changed?  I am pretty sure he didn't say grotesque. Maybe he said different. Different like Quasimodo? Reverse doesn't mean you can scratch your back more easily cause it's turned around backwards? OK, I am expecting one humdinger of a scar. But I was embarrassed to ask him to elucidate. Would it make a difference? Would I be tempted to trade function for form?

For now, I am hoping he is one of those doctors who prepare you for the worst case scenario while they really expect a great outcome. In the meantime I have my head buried in the sand. Just hope I don't end up wanting to bury my ugly arm in the sand.

Willet

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