Literally.

In October last year, in rather innocuous circumstances that are not worth asking about, I broke my wrist.

I had no idea. For months I carried the injury around, continuing to use the painful wrist, thinking it was only a sprain. I could type, I could swim, I could even do pushups (but probably shouldn’t have been), so how bad could it be? And the injury seemed to be healing, sort of, if swelling subsidence is all I cared about.

But after two months it still hurt and full mobility had not returned. When I finally let a doctor look at it in January this year, the x-rays showed a scaphoid break that had not even bothered to try healing itself. Worse, the bone had deteriorated to the point I needed radical surgery. Bone from my hip is now in my wrist.

Post-surgery, I was placed in a purple fibreglass cast. That’s me in the feature image. Necessary, but it greatly restricted my ability to write. All I could manage was laborious one-handed keyboard tapping in between long stretches of resting and elevating the surgical site. The reduction in my writing work rate meant I could realistically only focus on one project, and that has been my manuscript (which is coming along great, by the way).

But there is good news. A recent x-ray shows the scaphoid bone is finally healing, so last Friday my cast was taken off. It will still be a long road to recovery, but at least I can type a little easier now.

Which all means this: I’m back. You’ll be seeing more of me on my blog once again.

First up: part three of my masters series. This one I’m really excited about.