So, a couple of weeks ago John broke his hand and I was forbidden to write about it on my blog because he's embarrassed about it. Well, I think mostly everyone knows now, so I can feel free to complain that my husband, despite having been told by the Orthopedic surgeon NOT to take his splint off until he comes back to see her in four and a half weeks, has removed it not once, but TWICE!
When I picked him up after his appointment to have his bone set and saw that the doctor had not put a permanent cast on him, instead just re-wrapped his splint in bandages, I knew that thing didn't stand a chance of staying on longer than a week. I was right. He is at this moment not wearing his splint and enjoying the breeze blowing through his arm hair.
In his defense, however, I understand. I mean it's bad enough to not be able to wash your hands and arm, but John's a germaphobe and I think the ick factor of the cast has caused more emotional trauma to him than the actual broken bone.
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