Injury Recovery Update

So the injured wrist had been getting itchy for use, and the hand therapist encourages functional rehab. Certainly much more interesting than the boring regime of regular stretching and strengthening. Latest is to stand away from a wall, put palms up against it on a level with the forehead, rise on the balls of the feet and rest head against the wall. Hold and count. Wait for pain to kick in. Stop.

I'd swapped the highway wheels on the Forester for the outback wheels and that kind of varied lifting caused no real probs. Encouraging.

Still have to watch it though as a key nerve running into the hand got bruised in the crash or in surgery. This nerve is always just on and if it turns full on via exercise aggravation I risk losing the use of the hand. There's a routine of lightly stabbing the palm of the hand to tell it that it doesn't need to be on. It's boring; I do it on the train and suchlike; gets some funny looks.

Anyway, “Bugger it,” I thought, and I fired up the 'blade. Had charged the battery twice over the 6 months of idleness and despite the decayed fuel it came to life almost instantly. Did a victory lap of the backyard. No podium molls with champers at the end though. I'm in the wrong business.

Ben had put out an email about a ride on the Queen's Birthday holiday so I thought I'd ride out to the start just to say, “Hello,” and test the water.

Checked the levels and pressures. New front tyre; new oil in the forks; new helmet to get the hang of. So on a hellishly crisp morning with lowering clouds but some clear sky in view the 'blade and I tippy-toed onto the road and down to the servo to fill up. A few farts as the stale fuel cleared. Repressed the paranoia that everyone out there was out to get me. Wouldn't have minded if the Xmas crash had been self-caused but the big fella had decided to hit the smite key on his 'puter and the bolt of misfortune hit me. Was he going to cut me some slack now? For how long?

Turning off the Wandong-Epping road south of the Eden Park twisties my hyper-sensitive eyes spotted some roos crossing the road. Brake big time. Those macropods are macro stupid. Three carcasses on the road shoulder prove it. So I got out to the Whittlesea servo half an hour early. The sun breaks through. Layers come off. Other riders cruise in. Ben and I swap bundles of bike mags. Great to catch up. The wrist is aching but the parasthaesia in the palm hasn't kicked into second gear. Good sign.

Was I tempted to join the ride? Is the bear a mick?! But I tagged along through the Eden Park twisties and then headed south when those lucky sods headed north.

So that was the first ride, all of an hour, in nearly six months. I was stoked. The paw didn't flare up as much as I feared. There's still a way to go though. Standard rehab for multiple wrist fractures is 6-12 months. But I've done another 'sod it' and signed up for five days ski touring around the Tasman Glacier in NZ in August. Shoulda seen the hand therapist's eyebrows go up when I told her what the next rehab target was!

Ern Reeders