I haven’t written much about my wrist lately, except to provide a couple brief updates, but last week marked another milestone: I was discharged from occupational therapy.

It wasn’t quite as exciting as my final trip to see my surgeon, but it was close. The main difference being that I actually kind of enjoyed therapy, even as I tired of my regular trips to the hand rehabilitation center at Albany Memorial Hospital. As I’ve mentioned before, my therapist did wonderful things to help relieve my pain, like dip my hand in paraffin and place it under a stack of heating pads for 10 minutes, and ultrasound my wrist, which heated the scar internally and helped break up the scar tissue. But in recent weeks I’d begun to feel like these measures weren’t really all that necessary, and that I was ready to get my cap and gown and graduate from the program.

(For people unfamiliar with the wrist story, I broke it in a biking accident in August, and had a metal plate put in to shore up the bone during an hour-long surgical procedure. Click here to see my X-rays, which really tell the whole story.)

My therapist had originally suggested I do 10 weeks of therapy. (This calculation was made based on need, but also on what’s allowed under my HMO, which permits 30 visits a year, with a $30 co-pay for each visit.) I started off going twice a week, and then, two weeks ago, downgraded to once a week. Over time, my mobility had increased quite a bit — I regained 30 degrees of movement turning my wrist sideways — and I was also getting stronger. About a month ago, I started doing exercises with a one-pound weight, and I’d steadily worked myself up to three and four-pound weights, although we briefly dropped the four pound weight after I reported a resurgence of pain in my wrist. But all in all, I was making rapid progress. “I don’t think you need to do the full 10 weeks,” my therapist said. “Eight would probably be fine.” It was only a two-week difference, but I felt really pleased, because, finally, the end was in sight.

In my last therapy session, we moved up to the five-pound weight, which was difficult, but not impossible. My final challenge was to lift and lower 10 pound weights with my bad hand using a pulley-like contraption. I managed to do this, but I was totally exhausted when I finished. “How do you feel?” my therapist asked me, as I collapsed into a chair. “Oh, terrific,” I said. “Can we do the ultrasound?”

The next day, I had a weird crick in my neck and my entire arm was sore. In fact, it was the most pain and discomfort I’d felt in quite a while, and reminded me of the first month after I injured myself, when my arm throbbed all of the time. But the pain had eased off by the weekend, and now it’s back to a more reasonable level. In the end, I had 15 occupational therapy visits. I can always go back, I guess, but I hope I don’t have to. I’ll keep doing exercises at home — I bought three- and five-pound hand weights — and heating my wrist with my rice bag and massaging my scar.

I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that it will take a while for my wrist to feel completely normal. Most of the time it’s fine, but occasionally sharp pains shoot through it, and I sort of grit my teeth and suck in my breath and wait for them to pass. I can do pretty much everything I could do before the injury, although some of things, such as unscrewing jars, are a little more difficult. And I’d never thought of swimming laps as particularly intensive, but it’s amazing how much you notice the resistance of the water when your wrist hurts even a tiny bit. Anyway, my therapist took some final measurements on my last visit. I’m not sure what the unit of measurement is, but a month ago my grip strength was 21, and now it’s 47. Since my target was a grip strength of 35, I think it’s safe to say I exceeded expectations, and since exceeding expectations is one of my favorite things to do, I’m happy.

SUNDAY FOOTBALL

I keep slipping in my Pigskin Pick’em group. Now I’m in a two-way tie for fifth place. Also, I should never read the predictions of the experts. Someone always persuades me to make a last-second change, and invariably, it’s wrong. Lesson: I should trust my instincts.

This week’s last-second change was picking the Bears to beat the Cardinals; the Cardinals are looking very good, but for some reason I brought into the logic that they would struggle on the road against the Bears. Anyway, the Cardinals crushed the Bears, who are shaping up to be one of the lamest teams of 2009. There are teams with worse records, I know, but the Bears are just incredibly lame. But wait. Maybe the Giants are lamer. Or maybe I’m just angry at the Giants, because I keep picking them to win, and then they lose. My thinking is always: “Well, the Giants, they’re not all that good, but they’re not going to lose three in a row.” Or “Well, the Giants, they’re not all that good, but they’re not going to lose four in a row.” Anyway, this way of thinking is starting to trip me up. And as soon as I pick the Giants to lose, they’re going to go and win a game. Mark my words.

I cannot believe the Green Bay Packers. Maybe they’re the lamest team of the year. I mean, how do you lose to Tampa Bay? Quarterback Aaron Rodgers wasn’t all that good, but the defense allowed six sacks, so perhaps everyone’s to blame. And when you’re a lame team, lame things happen. Like you lose to Tampa Bay.

Also shocking is the reemergence of Vince Young as a viable NFL quarterback. In beating the 49ers, the Titans suddenly became a lot less lamer than they were two weeks ago. On my current lameness scale, I’m not sure they’re even in the top 5. Let’s see.

LAMEST NFL TEAMS

1. The Green Bay Packers for losing for Tampa Bay

2. The New York Giants for losing four in a row and blowing the game in the final seconds to the Chargers

3. The Chicago Bears for general, overall lameness

4. The Oakland Raiders No explanation needed

5. The San Francisco 49ers for losing to the Titans at home

The New England Sports Fan Friend and I are already gearing up for next week’s marquee game: The Indianapolis Colts vs. the New England Patriots. “Big game,” the Sports Fan Friend said, in an e-mail. Indeed. We might both die of heart attacks while watching it. But wait. That conflicts with my new attitude, where I don’t take sports all that seriously. So never mind.

Got a comment? E-mail me at sfoss@dailygazette.net.