The end of the tunnel...or cast (plaster)

Until today, Eli and I had been relatively impressed with NHS, but the cast removal experience left something to be desired.  Namely, two hours of my life that I will never get back.  

Tommy had an appointment at 9:50 and we arrived at the hospital at 9:43 (you can take the girl away from the rest of the Kents, but you can't take the Kent out of the girl -- what's that expression?).  Anyway, we waited until after 11 to get the cast removed, and then waited a bit more to see the orthopedist (plus two students).  I liked the doctor quite a lot, but that type of wait in a children's department (with all the children screaming about blood draws plus Alvin and the chipmunks on the television) is a bit hard on the nerves.  Anyway, the cast is off, he has a follow up appointment in three weeks which we are free to cancel if his range of movement is back to normal, and that's it.

Unfortunately, he is forbidden from doing anything he would consider fun until his arm is working normally.  The doctor explained it like this:  "he might fall, and he wouldn't use his arm to catch himself, so he would take the impact on his head."  Lovely.

 Emotional tv watching:

 The tickling saw removing the cast.  He can explain everything about this saw -- as soon as we left the hospital, he called Eli and gave a detailed description of it.  (For those curious, the saw vibrates rather than rotates, which is why it doesn't cut the skin.)  Tommy thought it tickled, thus the name.

When the cast came off, Tommy complained that his arm hurt.  Turns out, I could've done a bit more to prepare him for the fact that it would feel odd.  Next time!  (Please, no.)