I broke the little finger on my left hand today, and I'm just giddy about it. It makes me inordinately happy. I know; it makes no sense. It's the second broken bone of my life. I have 2 older brothers who were both Emergency Room regulars, but it took me until I was in my 30's to break my first bone, and that was a tiny little bone in my right wrist that I broke falling down on my bike. This doubles my total count, which is a stupid, macho thing to be happy about, but I just am. There, I said it.
Also, I'm just kind of amazed at the low pain level, which is another stupid, macho thing to be proud of, but there it is. I was riding my scooter, chasing after the boy on his bike on the way back home from getting the mail. I hit a chasm in the sidewalk and watched myself fall in slow motion, almost sure I could recover right up until the moment my glasses went flying and I felt skin on my left hand and knee come off. I stood up, picked up the strewn envelopes, and noticed that the little finger on my left hand was pointing upward at an alarmingly unnatural angle.
I put my glasses back on and thought, "I dislocated my finger. I should straighten it out before it starts to hurt." So I pulled it out and down. It looked better, but was still pointing up and to the left a bit, so I tried again. It still wasn't straight, so I thought, "I should go see a doctor to straighten it out before I make it worse."
Thumper must have heard me fall. He turned back, and seeing me lying in the gutter, yelled, "Daddy!" I told him I was OK, but I had a boo boo. He asked me if I was going to see a dentist. I told him I'd go see a doctor. He said, "OK. We'll eat dinner first."
So we went home, and I called Aerie, who had been planning on working late but rushed home so that I could go to the doctor without bringing the boy along with me. Thumper asked me if my boo boo was all better; I said it was not. He suggested that Gummi worms might make it feel better.
I took 2 Naproxen and made the boy dinner while I waited for Aerie to get home. I began to believe it might be broken, since it appeared to bend at a spot that was not a joint. But it didn't hurt enough to be broken.
So I went to the Urgent Care clinic, and the receptionist filled out my paperwork for me since I'm left-handed. The doctor came in and said, "Let me guess: what did you punch?" I told him my story, and he told me the x-ray tech would be in to see me in a minute. I had 3 x-rays taken, which only hurt a little when the x-ray tech and his trainee wanted a shot from the side, with my hand resting on the injured finger. I asked the tech if it was broken, and he said, "Only the doctor can diagnose. Do you want to see it?" This is the shot I looked at:
Not seeing the straight line across the bone that I expected to see, I said, "Oh, I guess I just dislocated it after all." The tech said, "Only the doctor can diagnose; he'll be in in a minute."
I sat in the exam room for a few minutes until the doctor knocked and entered, declaring, "You broke the crap out of it!" He pointed at the x-ray and said, "It's a mess. You broke it here, and here, and here..." He wrapped it up to the 4th finger and gave me a Vicodin prescription "So you won't be cursing my name at midnight tonight" and told me to see an orthopedic hand specialist in a week or so.
Later, the x-ray tech walked me out to unlock the door since I'd stayed past closing time. I said, "So you must've had a laugh when I said I'd only dislocated it." He said, "Yeah, I told the doctor what you said. We all thought it was pretty funny. I can't say anything, though."
So there you go. I busted my finger in multiple places, and it didn't really hurt much. I'm a man, baby! Yeah!
