Plates Should Stay In, Not Come Out

A few weeks ago, I decided to spend my evening after work cleaning my apartment. I got really into it that night. First, I made a trip to Rite-Aid and bought about $80 worth of cleaning supplies. I never knew there were all these new attachments for ths Swiffer now! I couldn't make up mind on which I needed, so I bought all of them. I do things like that. For instance, if I can't decide on which color shirt, I'll just buy all five colors. I came home with my goodies in hand, ready to start a night of cleaning.

Man, did I clean. I spent about five hours cleaning my apartment spic and span. I was delving into crevices and corners that I didn't even know my apartment had. I scrubbed and wiped and mopped up everywhere till my apartment had that lovely combined scent of Pledge, Murphy's Oil Soap and Windex. I can't remember the last time my apartment smelled and looked so clean.

This all probably took longer than normal because of my broken arm. At that time, I still didn't have much movement in my arm and so it was hard to use. The culmination of my cleaning efforts that night focused on my microwave. Since I've started cooking a lot, I decided I needed more counter space and tried to figure out where my microwave could go. I looked around and realized the only space I really had was the top of the refrigerator. So up my microwave went. I grabbed my step stool and lifted the microwave from underneath with both arms. I struggled with it because I really couldn't give much support with my lame arm. Finally, I got it up there and I was out of breath, but also pretty pleased with myself at my clean apartment and my new countertop space.

The following week, I saw my orthopedic surgeon. After he took my X-ray, we could both immediatly see that one of the plates in my arm was peeling off my bone. My doctor didn't seem to be so worried though. And I'm thinking "Why isn't he more alarmed??? A plate is COMING OUT of my arm." Then I thought back to the microwave I lifted and was thinking, "Crap, I knew I felt something when I lifted that thing." I had also lifted in the previous weeks a couple of water cooler bottles and some heavy grocery bags. All my friends asked me "Did you tell your doctor this?" But I was too embarrassed to say anything about my lifting to my doctor because I didn't wanna get yelled at.

So far I seem to be good. I've had another X-ray since then and the plates and screws haven't moved anymore out of my bone, so I won't have to have another surgery. I told a friend about my whole plate dilemma, and he proceeded to tell me that one time he had plates come THROUGH his jaw. Great, that's just what I need to hear to make me feel even better.