Those who know me well know I don't do things by half-measures. If I break a bone, I really break it: In 2009, on my freakin' birthday, I shattered my right proximal humerus into four big pieces and several small pieces, and shredded the bicep enough that I had to have donor tissue implanted, along with a plate and pins.

This time, on Dec. 1, 2024, I broke and dislocated my left wrist and elbow, requiring a new metal ulna and elbow, exterior pins on the interior wrist, and a plate over my wrist and hand.

The plate came out last month, and I finally have a little movement in the wrist, so I can drive again, and do some other things, within limits.

Thing is, I tend to forget my limits, and I decided last week to finally deal with a tree I'd gotten, along with some purple coneflowers provided by Nate and Phyllis Bell. While I didn't actually lift more than 20 pounds (my limit per my orthopedist), dealing with bags of soil, repetitive motion and me just being an idiot (we all are at times) resulted in a strained wrist, which I rested most of the weekend. As I type this (much more slowly than usual), I'm still feeling pain and know that this week's occupational therapy sessions........

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