Not the Best Way To Start Off the Summer

The short story: I lost a fight with a pool umbrella.

The longer version: We had been at the pool, and we could see rain on its way, so we were packing up to leave. The wind really picked up quickly, so (trying to be helpful, please note) I started to roll down the pool umbrella so it wouldn't blow away. As I was turning the crank, a huge gust of wind hit the umbrella and yanked it out of the table. Needless to say, my finger was in the wrong place at the wrong time. At this point, it's starting to rain, the wind is crazy, and there's thunder and lightning. Kind of a madhouse feeling as everyone is scrambling to leave. I knew I'd hurt my finger, but I was surprised to look down and see the poor thing - twitching and crooked. Once we were in the van, I said to the kids, "Hey guys, I think I'm going to have to go to the ER."

I got dressed and left Jordan cooking his specialty (chicken nuggets) for dinner, and I drove myself to the ER (thank goodness for automatic transmission). When I was checking in, the guy asked, "Have you been here before?" I had to laugh. "Why yes, I have - many times - just never as the patient." Jason canceled his appointments at church and drove to the hospital instead.

As luck would have it, my good friend Terah was working in the ER that day and made sure I was assigned to her. The whole time, I'd been trying to think positively...hoping it was just dislocated. But when she walked in, my x-rays in hand, and opened with "Wow!" I knew I was in trouble. Turns out, I had a comminuted fracture. Not one to beat around the bush, Terah explained that "comminuted" basically means "pieces," there were at least 3 fractures, and she was pretty sure I'd need surgery. What??? I was stunned, to say the least. (Of course, my first thought was for our annual beach trip that weekend. This was totally bad timing...)

Here I am, fresh from the ER. (Yes, all of that for one finger.) Jordan quickly dubbed me "claw mom." At this point, being right handed, I was pretty much useless.

I hurt my finger Tuesday evening, but the orthopedist couldn't get me in until Thursday afternoon. (We were holding out for the guy who specializes in hands.) He confirmed I'd need surgery and talked about doing it "next week." We explained our beach dilemma, and he told us he was at the mercy of the surgery scheduler but that she would call us later that day. I really wasn't feeling very hopeful since the next day was Friday, and that would be the only option left that week.

When the scheduler called and said they had an opening at 7:30 the next morning, I couldn't believe it. (Apparently, they'd had a cancellation.) I'm sure she thought I was insane because I was so happy about surgery.

The next morning, we left the kids sleeping peacefully (thank goodness for older kids) and headed to the hospital at 5:00 a.m.

I emerged later with this nifty plate and eight little screws. (They gave us copies of the x-rays taken during surgery.)

So I had surgery Friday morning, and we left for the beach Sunday morning. The first couple of days were a little rough. The pain and swelling were pretty bad, and I had to keep it elevated and iced as much as possible. But by Tuesday, things started to improve, and I was able to enjoy the vacation a little more. I only went down to the beach once, though - couldn't exactly get in the water, and the heat made my hand swell. Of course, when everyone else went over to the beach, I could sneak into the pool and float around without the threat of 15 kids splashing my hand. =)

It definitely wasn't the week I'd been planning, but in the end, I was just happy the surgery hadn't messed up the vacation for my family. And if I was going to be sitting around mostly helpless anyway, why not be at the beach?

A few days after we got back, I had my post-op visit. They unwrapped everything, and I got my first look at my hand...

I call it my Frankenstein finger.

(This was right before the stitches came out, so it doesn't look quite as scary now.)

Now I've graduated to this cute thing. It's actually pretty exciting because I can now move my wrist, and I have full use of my first three fingers. I'm still a little clumsy, but for the most part, I can muddle my way thru the day okay. And it's removable, so I can finally shower without having to bag my hand.

I also have stretching exercises that I have to do three times a day because this is as far as my right hand can go right now...

It's strange to look at my hand and want it to do something, but it simply won't respond. There's very little pain now - it's just very tight. I start physical therapy later this week and still have a long way to go to get my hand back.

Jason was teasing me a little about breaking my finger - since he's never broken anything, and I had several breaks as a kid. (In fact, our kids' broken bones generally get blamed on my apparently faulty genes.) I protested, saying, "But I haven't broken anything since the 5th grade!" And he said, "Well, it was a good run." Sigh...hopefully this means I'm good for another 25 or so years...