Yep, I'm in a cast for six weeks, minimum. I've broken my scafoid, which my brother-in-law who is an orthopedic surgeon, tells me is particularly bad as it can need surgery if not healed correctly.
So, how did I manage to break my wrist at the tender age of 29? Boxing. Yup, I decided some time ago that I would like to do boxing, in a proper boxing gym. What possessed me to want to do such a thing? Boxing is great fun. Its stress-relieving. And its fantastic for fitness. But, as I've discovered, its also great for causing significant injury.
I broke it because the gym did not strap my wrists, or tell me what can happen if you don't strap them. And, to make matters worse, when I told the instructor my wrist was sore, he told me it was probably muscle soreness, and urged me on. When I got home that night, I couldn't really use my hand, but wrote it off as muscle pain. Woke up in the morning, really couldn't use it, but went into work. It was bruised and aching, but I kind of managed to make a few notes. About 11am, my boss noticed I wasn't using it (It was kind of obvious as I am right-handed) and I was driven to the emergency room.
No sewing for me for at least six weeks. Queue in significant feelings of depression.
I had such high hopes. This dress in this fabric to wear to my sister-in-law's wedding:
I don't know what I'll wear to the wedding now.
I was also in the process of making another beignet - in black cotton sateen.
I sew most days a week - it is going to drive me mental.
I'm going to play catch up with the pants I've made and my red roobois, so I have a few blog posts up my cast, but mostly I'll be living vicariously through you all!
Or, maybe I'll follow the lead of lovely bloggers like Jorth and have my lovely hubby do some guest posting about titillating topics like nonlinear Gauusian optical physics.
What do you think?