Because I'm tired of explaining this, I've created an FAQ to explain why I'm currently wearing a cast and walking about like a poorly designed droid with one arm always crooked.
Q: Well? What happened?
A: I was doing a performance with an offshoot of Lips Down On Dixie, a local theatre troop, called Dixie Flatline and the Panther Moderns, which is dedicated to doing fetish and gothic stage shows for secretroom, among other communities. In our sterling debut on Halloween night, I was playing Dr Victor Frankenstein in an 18-minute modified retelling of the Mary Shelley classic. We had a number of stunts choreographed, including one where the monster created by the good doctor is supposed to pick me up by the neck and hurl me across the stage. Unfortunately this did not go as planned; I was thrown quite awkwardly and landed heavily on my left wrist.
Q: So you broke it.
A: Sure did. This is a displaced and fractured distal radius, though I didn't know it at the time. All I knew was it hurt, and it was bent in a most unappealing fashion.
Q: What about the show?
A: The show must go on. I managed to complete the first act, and while the audience thought the grimace of pain was just good acting, I'm not much of an actor, and it was actually just me, about to collapse from agony. I was going to do Act II as well, thinking I had merely sprained my wrist, but my girlfriend told the director where he could stuff it, and took me to the ER. Therefore, Victor was played in act II by our choreographer, and we didn't bother explaining why Victor was suddenly a large gay black man.
Q: What's the prognosis?
A: The orthopedist attemped to reduce the fracture, which is why I'm in a cast now, but it was too far mangled to set correctly. Surgery will occur on the 18th, where I will have a titanium plate screwed into the bone to hold it in alignment, and there it will stay until I either die, or medical technology produces nanobots that can repair this in a less medieval manner.
Q: So how are you typing this?
A: Slowly, which is how I do most things now -- clocking about 50wpm with marginal use of my left fingers, though I make frequent typos. Showering, getting dressed, cutting my hair, tying my boots, driving, even holding a phone are all things that now require a certain degree of logistical preplanning and ingenuity.
Q: That sucks.
A: It sure does. Thankfully, my friends and family have been most supportive throughout this, helping me do my work, picking up medical bills, and so forth. Special thanks goes out, of course, to Carrie, without whom I don't think I could have dealt at all that night, and who has been nothing but sympathetic and caring these past few weeks.
Q: Want to go rock climbing on Sunday?
A: Oh, screw you.