Jak's blog
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At the moment my hubby has a fracture in his hand just above the wrist. He did it in the garden while not looking where he put his feet, and managing to trip UP the steps. (There are just two miniature steps in our garden.) Of course his hand went down in an attempt to save himself and the wrist bent backwards.

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It was lunchtime and all he’d had to drink was coffee. His wrist and hand obviously hurt a lot but he insisted on going back out with the taxi to cover his afternoon bookings and not let anyone down. But the next morning he asked me to drive him to our nearest A & E hospital – a round trip of 52 miles.

The x-ray didn’t show any fractures so his hand and forearm were just strapped into a splint with velcro fastenings. He could remove it to wash and take a shower.

The next appointment was a week later. In the meantime he decided to change our plan for Sunday, which was to take the train to Torquay for my nephew’s 40th birthday party that was to go from 3 pm till late. We’d just attend the first few hours. When the day dawned, it was raining cats and dogs.

“I’ll drive down,” said hubby. So we took the taxi and kept ourselves dry, and kept him away from the beer. Fortunately the rain eased for the barbie once we were there. So – a drive of nearly 200 miles on Sunday.

On Tuesday he drove himself to the hospital for his next appointment, and came home in plaster. This time the fracture showed up on the x-ray. He still carried on driving. But the plaster seemed to make it even more painful and the pain migrated to his thumb. We didn’t sleep much that night.

Yesterday I put more diesel in my car and drove him back to the hospital. He was sent back to the technician who put the plaster on. Hubby wanted it removed.

“Oh no. I’ll just put a bit more padding between the thumb and first finger. And driving is not a good idea. But if you must, make sure you call your insurance company to make sure you’re covered before you get behind the wheel.” I drove him home after that waste of time and money.

He called the insurance company and found he was off the road. He managed to get his booked jobs covered and sat around fuming. I noticed all his fingers were swollen and massive.

In the night he tossed and turned, then got up. The sweat was pouring off him and he was obviously in a lot of pain. He told me he was going downstairs for some painkillers and I dozed off again, vaguely aware of him coming back to bed later. This morning he got up and showed me his arm. No plaster.

“It was driving me up the wall,” he told me. “I couldn’t keep still. I was walking up and down. The sweat was running down my face and dripping off me. Then I’d had enough. I dug my fingers into the plaster and pulled until it came away and I could unwind it. What a relief. I just put the splint back on and immediately felt better. I stopped all the sweating, came back to bed and went straight off to sleep.”

I noticed that his fingers looked their normal size. And of course, he went straight out to work.

I do hope he’s done the right thing.