A Broken Finger

When you catch a football be sure to catch it with soft hands, with your fingers - not your palm.

My son told me to “Go long”, so I did. In my pathetic attempt to catch the football I put out my hand the way marathon runners low-five bystanders as they run past. This was a stupid move. In fact, I’m pretty sure that move is listed under how NOT to catch a football.

An agonizing jolt pierced through my body. I knew in an instant my finger was broken. Thoughts of all the things that still needed to get done in the house, and that I would need my finger for, rushed through my mind - as did more pain.

I’d been in the middle of preparing dinner when I decided to take a break to throw the football with my son, and piles of laundry were laid out anticipating my attention, but my finger was throbbing - to the point of having its own heartbeat. Everything aside from the pain suddenly became irrelevant.  

My husband gave me a solid tip by suggesting I remove my wedding rings immediately. Good thing I did - within minutes my finger swelled up in a way it might, have I eaten four pints of pork lo mein. In the very brief moments of relief from the pain, my mind wandered to things like, "Will I still be able to cook? Can I type with a broken finger? Can I still do Orangetheory?" Then back to the pain.

The next morning I woke up with a finger that matched the face of Rocky post round fifteen. It was black and blue with hints of yellow and green. The swelling had more than doubled the size of my finger. On my way to work, I made a pit stop to get a professional opinion - the cashier at Wawa said, “Yup it’s definitely broken.” (I’m kidding!)

The Urgent Care physician confirmed the break; a finger splint for 4-6 weeks. The pain should hopefully lessen with each day. I can still manage to do all things as usual with modifications and at a much slower pace. If I move too quickly I will cause unwelcome pain and further damage to my finger; so I’m on cruise control these past few days and I don’t seem to mind. Slowing down isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I’m sure I will benefit from scaling back the rapid pace I’ve become so accustomed to.    

The night I broke my finger my husband made dinner and the kids helped out with the laundry. Everything got done, as usual - perhaps we were all a little more mindful and maybe even appreciative of the chance to slow down and work together as a family. Chess anyone?