Showering is another bathroom event that needs mentioning.  I firmly believe that just because my arm is going to be stinky for six weeks does not mean the rest of me has to follow suit.  It is imperative that the cast stays dry or it will get mushy and eventually fall off.  I tested this theory in a Nashville hotel back in 1978.  Indeed, after an hour of soaking that baby in the shower I was able to tear the cast from my right arm.  It was there to keep my thumb immobile but the smell became unbearable driving cross country and I hadn’t even reached Newark.  My thumb has made strange noises ever since.  This has hindered my hitchhiking career by scaring off potential rides.  I know now that the term of arm imprisonment is directly proportional to the healing process.  So, the dryness tool I use is a trash bag with a tie top.  I slide it over the cast and then tape the bag shut by wrapping medical tape around my upper arm in a tourniquet like fashion until my fingers acquire a pretty blue hue. Once in the shower I keep my arm elevated because I don’t feel I can actually obtain a hermetic seal and water could still seep into the cast.  This position requires that I can only turn right in the shower even though the stall blinkers are functional.  Soaping up and shampooing is a little awkward because I haven’t told my wife about the Geisha girl.  When complete, I play a little game called “Fun with Tape."  I rip off the tape (once I badly snagged some armpit hair.. ouch)  and roll it into a ball.  Approximately ten feet from the shower a small wicker waste basket is situated under the vanity.  I try to toss the tape ball into the basket.  Naked, without glasses, over the foggy door, across the bathroom, under the vanity, nothing but trash. I have made three baskets so far and actually yelled out “yeah” when I made it the first time.

          After the bathroom festivities are complete I am so exhausted I often go back to bed for a nap.  Once refreshed, I get dressed hoping that the pillow lines will be off my face by the time I get to work.  The only real problem I have when putting on clothes is getting my socks on.  If the tops of the socks are tight it is nearly impossible to put them on.  I have to spread the top out with my hand and snag them on my big toe.  I then pull across the toes and up over the foot.  I once rocketed a sock across the room and almost put the dog’s eye out.  I used to have many pairs of tight socks.  I now have none as I have cut the elastic out of the tops.  They are easier to put on but people at work call me “droopy ankle” because they flop over the top of my shoes.  As far as shoes go, I wear slip-ons.  I once struggled so hard  to tie my shoes that I worked up enough of a lather that I had to start the whole shower thing all over again.  After my truck driver like cursing about this dexterity debacle, the wife suggested that during my shower I should use some soap in my mouth, too.