do you have a good story?

I went to see an orthopedic surgeon today for the wrist problem described in the last post. Turns out I have inflamed a tendon or something, requiring a 3-hour doctor's visit, steroid injections, an x-ray, and a $200 splint - and I have to curtail my biking and guitar playing for 3-6 weeks - totally awesome.

But actually my trip to the doctor was enjoyable. First because I biked there and forgot my lock at home so I had to persuade the security guard to allow me to leave my bike in the freight office and then convince the man working in that office to watch my bike for me. I love meeting strangers and being self-effacing and pathetic and convincing (ask CH how I charmed three free tickets for the Wrigley Field-bound bus from a parking lot attendant last weekend!) and then getting my way. It's empowering. Also, all the guys who worked in the building were really nice to me, including the guy whose job it was to control the freight elevator while watching kung fu movies on a portable DVD player all day. (He showed me his box set of Jet Li movies.) These friendly helpful Midwestern cabbages!

Second, in the waiting room, I was able to polish off an issue each of Cat Fancy, Best Friends (a magazine for dog-lovers), Ceramics Monthly, and Reader's Digest, large print edition. I didn't get to "Highlights," but I have to go back to the doctor in three weeks and it is on my must-read list.

Third, there were posters and pastel paintings and sculptures of hands everywhere.

Fourth, I got a special splint made for me right there, and I was permitted to choose my own Velcro color. Naturally I opted for fluorescent pink, which makes my wrist visible from a hundred yards away and therefore doubles as bike safety gear. The atmosphere in the splint-making portion of the clinic was jovial. There were about half a dozen therapists making splints for half a dozen people with hand and wrist ailments, and you could tell that everybody enjoyed working there. They joked around with each other and with their patients. The man sitting at the table across from me told me about how he had broken his arm simply by falling over, and how three months of wearing a cast had mysteriously made thick patches of "Eddie Munster" hair grow on that arm. He also said that choosing any color other than black for his Velcro would ruin his reputation.

Fifth, there was a blank sheet of paper posted on a door in the splint-making room inviting people to write down how they had injured themselves. "Do you have a good story?" it asked. I quote the responses:

• Opened a bottle of syrup with a knife - yikes!
• Grandpa hit me with his car.
• Lost hand splint surfing in Costa Rica.
• I ran into my fiancee with my bicycle.
• I punched my dad in the arm.
• I crashed my bike too!
• I tussled with an alligator. Chomp!
• I jump [sic] high and came down on thumb
• I got old
• I got in a fight with my best friend over a girl at a bar. He left in a cab. I punched a wall.
• Fell rollerblading and I'm 71
• I got nailed saving my 25 lb dog from a 85 lb lab mix. Held on for dear life of my baby and I'm worse than she is. We are both lucky - due to my good reflexes. It's still a bit frightening. -JI
• I side-tackled someone playing soccer and they fell on me. Ouch!
• I crashed avoiding a deer while in Texas on my motorcycle (in full gear)
• I tripped running a marathon

Hahahaha! Then I was instructed to handwash the fingerless "arm sock" that one wears underneath the splint, and to use toothpaste to "deodorize" the splint itself, and then I left. There were half a dozen men in the freight elevator on the way down, all watching the kung fu DVD alongside the elevator man. The FedEx guy looked over at me and said, "I bet you could take all these guys down, couldn't you!" I put up my dukes and everyone in the elevator laughed. And then I said, "But really, I don't know the first thing about kung fu." And then everyone in the elevator laughed again! I felt really happy about getting along with my fellow Americans even though another version of me would have gotten pissy about being stereotyped as an Asian good at kung fu. Living in a less diverse and more politically moderate place has made me see the value of accepting other people's good humor and good temperaments even when they don't address you exactly the way you want to be addressed. God, I've really been such a bitch!

Anyway. At work now, balancing on yoga ball, typing with hot pink splint, blogging. Judge told me today that I should join the circus.