The Finger, revisited

Two months ago, on my 44th birthday, I suffered a terrible accident. Well, terrible because it occurred on my birthday, the one day a year I allow myself to enjoy life and take a break from working and the world's ills.

And terrible because I spent the better part of the day in the Cedars Sinai Acute Care clinic, conveniently located 1/3 of a mile up the street from my house.

In preparation of that night's high caloric meal, I had decided it would be wise to go to the garage and lift some weights. It was however, unwise to leave many of the dumbbells laying around the bench.

Long story, cut short, I dropped a 45 lbs. dumbbell on my finger and split it wide open.

I wanted to simply bandage it up, but upon closer and hurl-worthy inspection I could see the bone, or more accurately, the tendon.  I really couldn't tell what it was, but seeing it made me realize it was more than just a flesh wound. That's when I knew ouchie spray and a Bandaid would not suffice.

The splayed ring finger required 11 stitches. And three digital block shots in order to number the pain. If someone ever offers you a digital block shot (administered through an inordinately thick, three inch needle), politely refuse and take the arsenic instead.

Like I said, that was two months ago.

The stitches have been removed. The numbness on my middle digit has not.

Nor has the elasticity of the skin. It feels a lot like slipping into a sock made for a child and not one woven for my big fat size 11 EEE feet.

I have no doubt that given some more time it will completely heal. I have less confidence in the shape of the finger, which now sports a bulge by my second knuckle. Despite constant icing, the swelling will not go down.

Fortunately, prior to rushing to clinic to sew up my finger, I had the good sense to remove my wedding ring. Had I not done that, they surely would have had to bring in the Jaws of Strife™.

It appears now, that I will never be able to put the wedding ring back on.

I had to break this news to my wife, who was crestfallen.

That means, as I explained to her, anytime I'm out at a restaurant or a bar or even at an ad agency that is teeming with young attractive women, my bare finger will be going off like a siren, alerting all, and sending out the unmistakable signal that I am available.

Or in the words of James Brown, "single and ready to mingle."

My wife's snappy two word response,

"I'll live."   



----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For those unsqueamish I will post the before and after shots.

Simply scroll down.