The location of a proposed personal and RV storage project off Airport Road, the third storage project heard by the Planning Commission in as many months.
Is there anything more humbling than needing the “assist”? You know the one. You’re not able to dress yourself due to injury and you require basic assistance.
I took a spill about ten months ago and landed on my right thumb, bending it backwards in the process. An ER visit complete with X-rays indicated no broken bones but the attending physician thought that I’d torn a ligament as I dislocated the joint.
We braced and immobilized it for eight weeks and then he turned me back loose on the world. I was able to sign checks again, so most everyone who needed something from me forgot about my pain and lack of strength in my dominant hand. I ended up seeing my doctor again mid summer and he gave me a shot of steroids which really reduced the inflammation and pain. I still didn’t have much grip strength but I felt better. By October I was hurting again so I went in and took another shot.
Today, I returned for round three; but, this time he approached the problem from a different angle. He inserted more than two inches of needle into my hand and then slowly retracted it and injected medication all along the way. It was an extremely uncomfortable procedure. When it was finished, it was all I could do not to cry out. The gnawing pain stayed with me all the way to my next appointment in Battle Mountain. I drove that far, thinking that having something to do would help distract me.
I really felt better after letting go of a couple random rebel yells, but the relief was temporary, so I was very relieved when Patrice offered to take me to lunch. I ordered an enchilada but noticed a problem running my fork. My left handed efforts resulted in cheese and refried beans on my t-shirt, so I gave up. We made it home and once I got to our front door, I realized that I couldn’t work the door knob. Thankfully, Patrice was there to let ol mom in and allow me to scurry to the bathroom.
Once there, my next problem became apparent. I couldn’t unbutton or unzip my jeans. Patrice to the rescue. She kindly waited for me to finish my business and then attempted to reassemble me. She was working backwards and even with me giving her expert instructions, the episode left us both doubled over laughing.
I know that the steroids will kick in overnight and I should be competent to dress and undress myself by tomorrow; but geez, getting old is a pain, a humiliating, gnawing pain. But, when I consider the alternative, I just shut up and count my blessings.
Kris Stewart is a temporarily one-handed rancher in Paradise Valley, Nevada.