Mom and I went to the grocery store. I chatted with Z. a little. It was a productive trip.
I have an appointment with Dr. C. for him to take out the splinters I couldn't get out of my hands.
A couple of hours later: I caught the primary care folks up on what the various specialists had said. When I said to Dr. C. that my issue was splinters, he said, "I'm not a hand surgeon! We aren't set up for this." He went and got a long pair of tweezers with pointy tips, and got the nasty deep splinter near my right wrist that I'd been able to dig down to, but not pull out. Dr. C. got a magnifying headpiece He got a couple of other ones on my right hand that I hadn't been able to do anything with. "This isn't my forte," he said. He was concerned about breaking the skin.
"The skin on my hands breaks open into little cuts all winter," I said. It gets chapped, and then splits. So I was far less concerned about that than he was. I put Neosporin on the cuts, and lotion for dry skin on the parts of my hands that aren't cut, and where previous cuts have healed up.