I went for the last surgical consultation today, and there isn't going to be any surgery. My choice. The surgery wouldn't restore the range of motion, anyway, and that is one of my top complaints. I have an "ulnar abutment" which means two bones are rubbing on each other, and the area is swollen and irritated. They could shave the lunate bone in my wrist, but the surgeon warned that it would ache for a long time, maybe forever. It does that now, so I don't want it to be worse! There is nerve damage affecting three fingers that cannot be repaired surgically, either. Neither can the "vascular osteo-necrosis", which spells eventual doom for that little lunate bone. The consensus was that I should accept the limitations and learn to manage the disability, except for the bone surgeon who wants to fix that lunate bone. He put up a great defense for his surgery, but it isn't expected to fix enough of the problems to be worth it.
They did agree that I need to baby this wrist. No one ever suggested that ever during any of the first year's physical therapy. None of the professionals in the PT office ever cut me any slack or showed any mercy, and four years later I learn that I probably made things worse every time I forced myself to stir cookie dough, start the lawnmower, sweep the walks, whatever with my right hand, trying to toughen it up and work it out. Ugh. Now I'm in the management phase of the injury, which means making a conscious effort to be left handed, and ease up on burden on this hand. I really miss playing guitar, swimming and writing with a pen, but I guess I need to be thankful of all the things I can still do, like bore my friends to tears feeling sorry for myself on my ergonomic split keyboard. I'm just disappointed that there isn't some kind of magical solution, and to "try wearing a splint on bad days" was the extent of useful advice I got for the money.
Johanna