On the one hand, an appointment looms with the elbow surgeon in two weeks.
Barring a miracle with the arm-stretching splint, he'll suggest surgery to remove pesky internal scar tissue, cut a few uncooperative ligaments, and extract some bone fragments that have worked loose, all in hopes of making my right arm straighten more.
I admit that I don't look forward to this, but it's probably the best option, since the arm now straightens only about 45 degrees.
Right now I could blend in with the ladies waving their arms here around 0:39:
***
On the other hand, I'm enjoying the gym routine of slowly standing up, letting go of the helpful left-hand hand-hold (a 4-legged half-walker), and standing on my own two feet, albeit one leg has a brace. It doesn't hurt and isn't tiring.
I also enjoy the slow and tedious processes of transferring by myself between bed, wheelchair, and commode--no more waiting for up to two hours to be hoisted by crane.
There's even an actual exercise now, sitting for five minutes in a strange sort of stationary bicycle whose pedals go back and forth instead of round and round, so I pull back on a lever with my left hand to return the right pedal (the bad left leg and bad right arm are idle).
It helps to imagine the Tour de France at 4:30 and sprint for the last thirty seconds.
Best of all, Matt the Physical Therapist ventured a guess that I may be walking in three or four weeks, as opposed to merely standing up and sitting right back down.
