Slammin'
I just realized I hadn't told the story that on the last day the packers were at our old house, I broke my finger, by slamming it in my van's sliding door. Not just caught in the door, but caught in the locking mechanism itself.
Yeah, when I do something, I do it right, baby.
When it happend, I had no idea how bad it was. I rationalized that I would put a bandaid on it, until after the packers had left.
Yeh.A'hem. didn't happen.
When I got it out of the door, I took one look and realized I'd better call hubs to come sit with the packers, while I went to the emergency room. Utterly smashed the bone. Nail cracked in half, and bleeding like crazy.
After x-rays confirmed a broken finger, the nurse scrubbed the wound, especially the nail bed.
I do not possess the words to describe this kind of pain.
I cried like a baby. Sobbed.
Afterwards, the doctor prescribed me some percocet....a first for me...amid oodles of protests from me. "I'll just take motrine and be fine." (I don't take meds very often... I hate the way they make me feel.)
The doctor and nurse looked at each other and smiled. And insisted I fill the prescription anyway.
PRAISE BE TO THOSE WHO MAKE PERCOCET.
'Nuff said.
It has taken me 2 1/2 months to be able to type using that finger again.
I had no idea how much I used that finger, other than just holding my engagement/wedding rings.
Since then, I've had to retell the story over and over when someone notices it...feeling dumber and stupider with each telling. Yeh, I didn't have ENOUGH to do, I decided to go break my finger.
*sigh* Oh well. The move couldn't have possibly been COMPLETELY perfect...That would have been unnatural.
"He who breaks a thing to find out what it is, has left the path of wisdom."~~J.R.R Tolkien
Yeah, when I do something, I do it right, baby.
When it happend, I had no idea how bad it was. I rationalized that I would put a bandaid on it, until after the packers had left.
Yeh.A'hem. didn't happen.
When I got it out of the door, I took one look and realized I'd better call hubs to come sit with the packers, while I went to the emergency room. Utterly smashed the bone. Nail cracked in half, and bleeding like crazy.
After x-rays confirmed a broken finger, the nurse scrubbed the wound, especially the nail bed.
I do not possess the words to describe this kind of pain.
I cried like a baby. Sobbed.
Afterwards, the doctor prescribed me some percocet....a first for me...amid oodles of protests from me. "I'll just take motrine and be fine." (I don't take meds very often... I hate the way they make me feel.)
The doctor and nurse looked at each other and smiled. And insisted I fill the prescription anyway.
PRAISE BE TO THOSE WHO MAKE PERCOCET.
'Nuff said.
It has taken me 2 1/2 months to be able to type using that finger again.
I had no idea how much I used that finger, other than just holding my engagement/wedding rings.
Since then, I've had to retell the story over and over when someone notices it...feeling dumber and stupider with each telling. Yeh, I didn't have ENOUGH to do, I decided to go break my finger.
*sigh* Oh well. The move couldn't have possibly been COMPLETELY perfect...That would have been unnatural.
"He who breaks a thing to find out what it is, has left the path of wisdom."~~J.R.R Tolkien
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