My dad is a rocket scientist.
You can't make that kind of stuff up.
My mom is an accountant.
But they claim that they gave birth to...me.
I'll guess we'll have to take their word for it.
So, what do you get when you cross rocket scientist/accountant genes with a wild creative streak and a compulsion to think out of the box? What happens when all that murky DNA soup encounters a little medical crisis?
Why, this little design, of course.
Yep, that's 4 of 8's cast. Yep, those are Legos. Her foot began to swell inside the cast, putting her into excruciating pain. I put in a late-night call to the nurse and she advised me to try to slightly widen the seam that had been left in 4 of 8's cast to allow for a bit of swelling following surgery. I was able to get the seam a bit wider, bringing 4 of 8 immediate relief--but the minute I would remove my hands from the plaster, all howling would break loose. It became clear I needed something to keep the seam more open--and so, in a nod to Archimedes and those number-crunching parents of mine, along with a howdy-dee-do to whoever of my ancestors sprinkled in some creativity, I hit upon this Lego Shim Device.
I knew you'd want a close-up. I'm thoughtful that way.
Because of the handy pegs on Legos, I was able to graduate the width of my shim. The flat Legos on top help hold the thicker Legos beneath in place and distribute the pressure from the seams of the cast. This little baby has now been in place a couple of days and has worked like a charm.
See, no tears, no howling. Those Legos are handy little medical devices.
I'm pretty sure my dad is proud of me--I bet he'll send me a spreadsheet to prove it.
It might even have an algorithm....
Hey, a girl can dream.
Working on the World's First Lego Artificial Heart,