I had some minor elective surgery on Monday Ė nothing serious Ė but itís left me pretty worthless for much of this week.
Iíve had this bump on my right forearm for a couple years that the doctor confirmed was harmless. Ugly and annoying, yes, but one of those perfectly benign things insurance doesnít cover because itís ďcosmetic.Ē Fine. So Iíve ignored it for a long time.
But the thing of it is, is that it got in the way while in the shop; it seemed I was always scraping this bump on one thing or another. The bottom line is that this past fall it got larger and, thus, even more in the way. Plus, it was starting to ache a bit. Having it re-examined, the doctor said it was still harmless, but it was now Ė for insurance purposes Ė ďcausing me distress.Ē
Surgery went fine. They knocked me out, cut the bump out, wrapped me up and sent me on my way. The anesthesia left me sick as a dog for a day, and although I feel fine now, I canít use my arm yet. It hurts and itís wrapped up such that it looks like one of those things they wear when they train police attack dogs. I canít lift anything with that arm, and canít really type for more than five minutes without it aching severely. Iíve been useless around the house, and needless to say thereís not much of anything I can do in the shop. I feel like Bill Raisch. (Google him.)
So here I am with time on my hands Ė or, at least, one of them Ė and Iím almost not able to indulge in my favorite time-user: being in the shop. I say almost because there is one activity Iíve been able to handle out there left-handed, and thatís cleaning.
At this point, my shop is pretty much spotless. And next Friday I get all the wrapping off and stitches out, and I should be able to get back to work.
The first thing Iím doing is getting that shop back to its lived-in (and, more importantly, worked-in) appearance.
Till next time,