End of Physical Therapy

My arm is all healed now, and I had a very sad good-bye with my Physical Therapist. We hugged and planned to have dinner sometime. Throughout our months together, we gabbed about everything under the sun. I told her about my soap-opera love life; she bitched to me about her husband (jokingly--they're very happy togther.) I miss my sessions because a lot of my therapy was just a glorified massage on my broken arm, and also they were a nice break from work.

But now I have these metal plates in my broken arm for the rest of my life. On the day of my last appointment, I bought a copy of my Xray. It looks very dramatic. Two huge plates and 12 giant screws are now implanted in my arm. In a couple of years my doctor said I can have them removed. But why would I do that? It's proof of such a cool war story, although I do have my scars to show too. My doctor said that actually most people just have them stay in because removing them would require another surgery. Most people who get them out are people who might have a propensity to get injured again, like a football player, because the plates can really screw things up in the event of a reinjury.

Well, unless I feel any real pain, they're gonna stay in. For a while, leaving the house after my broken arm was like leaving the house with a huge pimple. But now I'm proud of my scars. They make me look tough, which is always nice.