I've figured out the essential accessory all women should, no MUST, NO NEED to have! A splint!
I'm being completely facetious of course. Yes, folks- at the ripe old age of 30 I've had a "first"- I've broken my first bone. Only I could have pulled such a bonehead move as I did yesterday, crushing the bone at the tuft of my right thumb (yep, my dominant hand).
I have to say- it all started with my ambition to be efficient in my personal time management (ie- wanting to stick to my To Do list!!). We left for pre-school about 40 minutes early to stop at ShopRite and pick up a few odds and ends (the nug LOVES a good grocery store outing but not so much the unloading process- it seemed like a good compromise at the time...). After I dropped her there, I returned home to unload my groceries and get a few household chores done before I had to go back to get her. Once I was done unloading, I closed my trunk...with my thumb stuck in it. If it sounds painful and gross, that's because it is really painful and gross. Unfortunately, for me, my car keys were in the front door of my house...just laughing at me from 30 feet away. We just got this new car on Saturday (did I mention that? Yeah, we're not getting along so far...), and from what I could tell, there was no button on the rear of the car to easily pop the trunk back open.
Unable to move and seeing stars, I resorted to the only thing I could think of- yelling "HEEEEEEELLLLLPP!! ANYONE!!! HEEEEEEELLLLPP!!" Sadly, no one answered. My next door neighbor's car was in the driveway and I'd just seen another neighbor checking the mail a few minutes prior, but whether they didn't hear me or thought I was playing around, no one came out. Every bad thought ran through my head- if no one came soon, I could lose my finger- I could be there for HOURS before kids got home from school and people emerged from their houses to get them. The pain was so so bad just thinking about being there that long made me feel faint. Low and behold (and by the grace of God) a neighbor I never met happened to be driving by and saw the crazy, frantic, pregnant woman flailing her left arm in the air. He retrieved my keys, popped the trunk and saved the day (and my finger!!!)
Of course, from there, I had to get to a doctor (once I stopped shaking and felt a little less like I was going to puke), and figure out how to do that, AND get the nug, and stop my hand from throbbing (my thumb looked like a cartoon of a thumbs up...except black, blue and bloody). Thank goodness -as always-- my in laws were there in a flash to help and the hubs got home as soon as he could (in NYC commuting time, that means a couple of hours). The orthopedist took one look and said he had no doubt I'd crushed the tip of the finger- but being pregnant, preferred not to do an X-ray unless my thumb was hanging off (which thankfully, it wasn't).
So, for the next 4-6 weeks my thumb will be wrapped up tight. I might not regain total feeling but mobility shouldn't be a problem (which I'm okay with considering how much worse it *could* have been). I got lucky in so many ways yesterday that the it's hard to even be upset about it happening. If Cam had been home she could have hurt herself inside the house if I was stuck outside; or if she was outside with me she could have wandered into the street without me being able to grab her. If my neighbor hadn't come by I could have been there a very long time, and not but 10 minutes after he rescued me it down poured something crazy outside. If my in-laws hadn't been nearby and quick to help, I might have spent a lot of extra time in unnecessary pain and wouldn't have been able to get in to see a great orthopedist as quickly as I did. On a silly side note, apparently I'm also lucky that I'm a quick left handed typer!
That's not all that happened yesterday....in an interesting related (but separate) side story, the hubby decided a few weeks ago that he really likes the name Brenden (for the wee man). Being the lover of options that I am, I liked the name but continued on checking the baby name message boards (yes, they exist!), looking up names online and "trying on" names I really liked. However, all this time, he's been steadfast on his love of the name Brenden. It's a common enough name- I've met with a few "Brenden"s my age or older, but haven't really heard it on a baby or toddler in recent years. Yesterday, in the midst of my dizzying pain, I said thank you to my "rescuer" a dozen times, introduced myself, and in return he told me his name....you guessed it...it was Brenden. While I find the coincidence serendipitous (and the hubs says it MUST seal the deal now), I'm still not 100% sold...although it's reaaaaallly growing on me....little Brenden, the pregnant lady finger saver (hehehe).
So that's it- the tale of my first broken bone. I think it's safe to say my "To Do" list might be shot to hell for a little bit, but I guess maybe I'll make next week's challenge "Change poopy diaper without accidentally dipping my splint in the poo." That alone has been a challenge!
Happy (almost) end of the week! ;)
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