Six weeks after fracturing my fibula, the fiberglass cast finally came off.
The removal took place at the Outpatient Surgery unit of St. Luke’s BGC under the steady hands of my orthopedist, Dr. Regie Torres. The instrument of liberation was a round, rotating cast saw that whirred to life with a noisy buzz and a faint vibrating hum as it met the fiberglass.
Watching an orthopedist at work, one quickly realizes that one of the profession’s quiet skills lies in wielding that saw with precision, cutting cleanly through the rigid cast without so much as grazing the skin beneath. It’s a small miracle of technique and confidence.
Even so, I chose to close my eyes.
The doctor reassured me that the risk of injury was remote, but the mere thought of a spinning blade gliding toward my leg was enough to make me momentarily petrified. I preferred not to witness the spectacle.
Between the blade and my skin, however, were several protective layers: the hardened fiberglass shell, a soft padding designed to shield the skin, and beneath that a thick stocking-like liner before, finally, my own dermis.
Sadly, no video documentation was allowed, something my blogging instincts quietly lamented.
Next chapter – months of physical therapy. I’m hoping to walk again without crutches and wheelchair towards end of April or hopefully even earlier 🙏
Pigoutmanila 