Okay, really just the day my two ulna bones go back to being one ulna bone. With the help of some titanium hardware and a surgeon.
Tomorrow is the big day--check in is at 10:45 a.m. and, no, I have no idea how long this will take. From my perspective, it will probably not seem long at all between falling asleep and waking up with a new scar and some different device on my arm.
I tried to convince the anesthesiologist to let me watch, but it was a no-go.
Am I nervous? A little. Do I see another realistic option? Not really. The bones are still moving in there and while they might heal if I kept still long enough, the concept of being less mobile than I have been and wearing a cast for even longer just doesn't work for me. At all.
I'm sure if I'd been a 15-year old boy, they would have slapped a plate in there immediately--both because I was still growing and because, well, most 15-year old boys don't hold still any better than I do.
I think they need to examine their statistics around horse people, though. Really? You fell off a horse? Oh, and it was a horse you own? Yeah, plate this one up pronto.
Honestly? I'm more worried about the side effects from the drugs than the surgery itself. They are supposed to be adding anti-nausea drugs to the cocktail, but we'll see.
More later, including gory pictures and x-rays if I can get them.