Things were progressing well until yesterday when wind chills were in the teens. I had to go to the dentist, otherwise I would have hunkered indoors. Then today I made the mistake of being outside for a consultation with a home repairperson. By the time I got to therapy my finger looked like it did when I first started, nearly curled in on itself.
So now I’m wearing the sci-fi splint in the daytime, too.
Since I couldn’t write, I read and watched movies. Stay tuned for reviews of Negroland, Woman in Gold, The Secret Life of Pronouns, Papa [as in Hemingway], White Helmets, Under the Tuscan Sun, The Inheritance, The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, Becoming Jane, Today’s Special, Peninsula of Lies.
After days of progress, the finger is now swollen, knuckle abraided, and pain interfering.
The hand is better but still not up to longform blogging, so I’m reposting a portion of one from 2015 because of this from the Washington Post. “The ruling in this Maine labor dispute hinged on the omission of an Oxford comma.”
The following is a take from “Holy Writ” by Mary Norris, which appeared in the February 23-March 2 (2015) issue of The New Yorker. She was a copy editor at the magazine and inveighed against dropping the serial or Oxford comma. She used these examples:
- “This book is dedicated to my parents, Ayn Rand and God.”
- “… the country and western singer who was joined onstage by his two ex-wives, Kris Kristofferson and Waylon Jennings.”
- “We invited the strippers, J.F.K. and Stalin.” To which someone asked, “who had the better outfit, J.F.K. or Stalin?”
This little sleeve keeps the swelling down. It’s lined with silicone and helps after the torture of therapy and the little metal trap.
Did I mention I’ve better at taking photos with one hand?
The brace (yesterday’s photo) is for nighttime wear and still waking me up at odd hours.
This little beauty tortures my pinkie three times a day. It was supposed to be for a half-hour at time but I negotiated it down to twenty minutes.
Yes, it hurts like hell, but the pain goes away … eventually.
So this is the next stage.
I’m writing a sci-fi story about it.
The day of the suture removal was the low point (I hope). Therapy began and is not nearly as painful as what I went through for the frozen shoulder. Thanks to everyone who has called, messaged, and so forth. It does enhance the healing process.
The sutures looked bad. Their removal was among the most painful experiences of my life. It was far worse than the multiple abscessed teeth and the broken and sprained ankle.
The tech kept hitting a nerve by the second knuckle. I felt myself growing lightheaded. She stopped before I passed out.
Oh, and it bled.
Waking up with that blob of a cast on my hand was a surprise. The surgeon said, “You’re going to be even more surprised when you see the sutures.”