Thursday, February 03, 2011

When bad things happen to good fingers

This hurt a lot less than I would have expected. And it looked even worse in the IRL version with the skin on.

So that was my afternoon. Slipped down some icy steps. Ironically, after they were shoveled. I went down them fine when they were covered with a foot of snow. Then the maintenance guy shoveled them down to their icy core and just 30 minutes later, BAM!

I remember it hurt like hell, thinking I'd really knocked the crap out of my pinky finger. Then when I saw it pointing East when I was facing South, it absolutely freaked my shit out. The pain almost went away entirely. I think I was in a very mild form of shock.

I scrambled around, not even remembering if I locked the door (which caused extra ER-related anxiety) and ran out to catch a cab to the hospital (after a quick stop at the ATM).

They measured my BP at over 160 and the doctor was looking at me very worriedly, asking if I thought I was going to throw up or pass out. No, I'm just kinda freaked out. I mean, for whatever reason, I was really, really scared.

I did not cry. But I almost did. I guess I didn't know what was going on -- broken or dislocated or what. Most of all I think I was terrified of what they'd have to do to fix it. Break it? Amputate it? Yank it?

Yanking was the remedy. They offered, and I accepted, a local. But I guess football players and kids pop theirs back out all the time. But I've never even broken a bone (at least not one of my own).

And it wasn't as bad as I expected. I'd pictured her yanking with two hands and a foot pressed into my chest for leverage. But it was nothing like that. Just a little tug.

X-rays showed no fracture. Or "probably" no fracture, which is odd.

Overall, I picked a wonderful time to go to the ER -- mid-afternoon on a weekday. No gunshot or car crash victims clogging things up. Very little waiting and in and out in a couple of hours.

The rest of the afternoon I admit my brains were a little scrambled, and I managed to just perform the barest administrative tasks, returning emails and phone calls. And fetching the laundry I left downstairs.

Now, as a FB friend suggested, it's Miller Time.

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