Wolverine Dad

Last month I broke my hand (don’t ask) and went to the doctor. I begged him not to put a permanent cast on it because I have to use my computer to work. I begged and pleaded and finally he conceded to letting me wear a Velcro splint. There was one condition. I had to return in two weeks to take another x-ray and if it wasn’t healing properly they would replace it with a permanent one.


Two weeks went by and I returned for my x-ray. The doctor came in looking concerned and asked me lots of questions about my hand. Had I ever broken it before? Was I taking any other medications? Then he left and came back with another doctor and they were both frowning at my x-rays. Now I was worried.

“Um, is there something wrong with my hand, doc?” I asked.

“What’s wrong with your hand is that there’s almost nothing wrong with your hand. It’s almost completely healed.”

They proceeded to show me the x-rays and sure enough what was a large v shaped split was now a barely visible line. I was kind of taken aback.

“So no cast right?”

“Heck, you don’t even need the splint from looking at this. However, just wear it for another week.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel comfortable telling you to not wear it after two weeks.” He said shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head.

Doctor two asked, “Have you ever broken any other bones?”

I proceeded to tell him about my collar bone and how it took four and a half weeks to heal.

“Hmmm that’s pretty normal. Can you tell me more about the break?”

I then told him how it shattered and never grew back together with the bones meeting tip to tip. Rather, they rested next to each other with about a half inch overlap. This garnered more raised eyebrows and I was told that a set like that would normally take twice as long to heal or more. Apparently four and a half weeks for that was faster than the hand. I responded that I was in college and much younger then.

At that point I decided to leave before people in dark sunglasses and lab coats came to take me to a “secured facility” to “study” me.

For a long time we’ve joked around my house that I’m the Omega Man. I’ll be the only one left after the mutant virus outbreak because of my odd blood. I found out at a blood donor years ago that my blood has rare antibodies that make me an ideal donor for infant surgeries (it also helps that I’m O+). Apparently lots of people have a few extra antibodies, but I have several.

I’ve also always contested that there is something wrong with the way that my nerve endings are myelinated, because I don’t feel pain like I should. Believe me; I’m not tough by any stretch of the imagination. I just don’t feel pain like I should. It’s the only way I can describe it.

But this bone thing tops them all. I missed my calling. Should have been a stuntman or a soldier or as I heard my son saying to his friend the other day, “No, seriously! My dad is like Wolverine!”