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It’s just a pinky

You know that saying, ‘the sum of its parts’? Well, one of my parts is broken, and it’s been difficult to function at 100%. Because let’s face it, when something’s broken, you’re NOT at 100%.

Tomorrow I go in for pinky surgery. It seems so silly to have surgery on the pinky, of all things! I mean, it’s just a pinky! Right?

Four weeks ago, Owen and I were playing catch with the football. Owen has a pretty good right arm. Oh, and for the record, I can throw a football. Properly. With a spiral and everything. But apparently catching footballs is difficult for me.

So Owen threw a really awesome spiral. Really hard. I shouldn’t have tried to catch it. It was coming at me a little low, down at my knees. I reached down for it and ‘crunch’. It bounced off my pinky and I heard something crunch which I thought was my fingernail. Then, suddenly, I felt somewhat nauseous. My fingernail was still in tact by the way.  And my adrenaline was rushing. I felt like puking. I hopped up and down and shouted a few swear words. Probably to the chagrin of the old lady walking her dog past the house when it happened.

I went inside to sit down. Owen didn’t pester me to keep playing. He knew something was amiss.

James of course, was convinced it was merely bruised. Just a bad sprain. Yeah, right. Okay Mister Knowitall, we’ll see. I kind of had an inkling it was more than a sprain.

Right after it happened. It doesn’t look right, does it?

The next morning I took myself to urgent care. The X-rays proved it was broken. And how.

I texted James with this picture.


His response- “Impressive X-ray.”  Impressive is right! You know when you don’t want something bad to be true, but just proving your instincts were right about something is gratifying? Well, something seemed to satisfy me knowing that I was right and he was wrong.

Because everyone takes a broken pinky selfie leaving urgent care, right?

The Orthopedic specialist I have been visiting several times this month was talking surgery since day one. But I was convinced that it would heal properly on its own. This time, I WAS wrong. It didn’t heal the way it should. It needed pins to correct it.

A silly little pinky needs 3 pins to correct the crunchy bone breakage that was caused by catching, or trying to catch, a stupid football.

I feel so dumb. But, you know, it’s hard to do things with one less finger. Not to mention the pain it’s been these last 4 weeks. I mean that literally and figuratively. So fixing it properly will be a relief.

My life, like most of us, has been off-the-charts busy. I had a Guild auction for Seattle Children’s Hospital and an alumni performance for my old high school. I had no time to take some days off to recover from a surgery.

Until tomorrow. Tomorrow is D-day. Or P-day, for pinky day. I’ll be in and out in a matter of hours.

McSweetie will drive me home to a comfy bed, bringing me trays of tea and Cookie Butter toast and ordering take-out for a few nights.

I intend on milking this situation as any mother can/should.

Oh, and whattya know? The pins will be in for 6 weeks, just in time for Christmas. I think I’ll need to take a break this season from all that crafting and holiday baking I was going to do. Ha! What do I mean, ‘going’?

That’s what bakeries are for!

Wish me luck. And soon, all 10 of my digits will be back to normal.