Muenster is a cast, and a cheese, and a show, and a place but it’s NOT the Addams Family

We’ve reached a new level of familiarity with the pediatric orthopedic office. We’ve visited there 10 or so times in the last 4 months. Benji is an expert at X-rays, the techs don’t even ask him to switch positions, he knows the drill. The cast cutter saw is no big deal, they’ve stopped telling him the spiel, “this won’t hurt, it just vibrates, it can’t cut you-“

I’m pretty sure one of the cushions in the waiting room has formed to the shape of my butt, so that’s a perk. I usually pick him up right before the end of school and drive down, so we’re typically mid-picnic on the exam table when the doctor walks in. Can’t miss snack time.

This week his long arm cast and original ER splint were cut off and a new cast was applied. This was exciting as it means no surgery is required and healing has begun. The new cast is called a Muenster Cast. I spelled that correctly for all you medical folks, but what I really heard was “Munster Cast.” The cast technician was explaining that she had to put on a regular long arm cast then cut away parts of it and reassemble them into a different shape to create this form of cast.

I had some observations, and being who I am, could not keep them to myself, “Wow. I wonder if that’s why they call it the munster cast. Because of that TV show about the Munsters? You know, the main guy was kind of like a Frankenstein and this cast is like a Frankenstein, built out of spare parts…it was on TV Land back in the day…black and white…there was a pretty catchy theme song, actually, I think that was the Addams Family…”

At this point in my monologue both the tech and Benji were looking at me like I might be having an episode and if so we were in the wrong wing of the hospital for that.

“I think black and white TV might be a little before my time,” the 20-something-year-old technician said. “And if I had to guess the cast is probably named after the person who created the method. There’s probably a Dr. Muenster out there somewhere.”

This seemed like a good stopping point for me to peter off into silence and contemplate my advancing age.

Benji then commented the application process was getting water on his lap, to which she said, “well you’re not melting so I guess we’re okay.”

He was obviously confused, I was obviously in no condition to give another monologue and I felt a little payback might be well served at this point. We all blinked owlishly at each other.

“You know, witches melt if they get wet? Have you heard that saying?” she tried again.

He shook his head.

“Yeah. It’s probably before your time. It’s before my time if I’m being honest.” She pivoted towards me, “Actually, you probably know what it’s about, seems like it might be from your time.”

Ouch. But. Yes.

I mumbled something about the Wizard of Oz as I stuffed old cast pieces in my purse. Oh, did I not mention that? She offered him the old cast to take home.

My sputtered, “no please, really, you don’t have to do that-” accomplished nothing and what 6-year-old boy wouldn’t say yes to that offer.

“Oh it’s my pleasure! We just throw them away, looks like he’s got cool signatures on it, he should keep it!”

“REALLY. NO. IT’S NOT NECESSARY.” Like really really not necessary because within 20 seconds of walking out of the office he threw the thing at me and asked, “hold my arm for me, but don’t throw it away EVER because I’ll be super sad.”

So that’s on my counter now. Forever.

I would like to say that I’ve done some research and the term Muenster Cast refers to Muenster, Germany where the method originated. NOT a doctor. So there. I’m not so old I can’t Google things.

Here’s a list of all the things he told me he can do now that he has an extra arm cast laying about.

1. Reach light switches
2. High five people without getting up
3. Scratch his back
4. Carry more things
5. Use it as a baseball bat
6. Wave
7. Put it together like a puzzle

“I don’t know, Bud, it just smells real bad.”

“Yeah. That’s okay. It’s worth it.”

It’s not.