March 12th, 2021
5:55am. I’m taking a bus to the hospital to hopefully set a bold end of a story slightly over a year long.
January 10th, 2020 I broke my right wrist. I remember that day pretty clearly. My seemingly fast progress in learning snowboarding, the silly fall from a beginners slope right next to the hotel entrance, no nurse available at the resort (let alone a doctor) etc. The ski instructors only talked me through and restrained the arm in a sling from a thin cloth (which I believe was better than nothing). The trip to a rural Japanese hospital was exceptional: although we arrived almost at the end of the working day on Friday, they found two doctors who did the necessary so that I could safely return home. I’ve got a sufficient supply of painkillers of a horse power so that I didn’t feel a thing and could’ve even danced if I wanted.
January 17th 2020 I went for a surgery in Sydney. Getting fixed was a real quest. I even had to slightly raise my voice at the GP who tried to dismiss me with the excuse that the majority of doctors are on holidays and it’s very hard to get an appointment at the moment. Long story short, I got treated by one of the best hand surgeons in this city. He did an amazing job and I’m very thankful.
As a result, I’ve got a metal plate inserted to support the healing bone.
9:05am It’s all done. The plate had been removed. Bye-bye.
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