a story of stupidity.

in the wee hours of exactly five weeks ago today, i had a fall on a yorkshire cobble. i did something to the pinkie on my left hand, and at the time it was the most excruciating thing i'd ever encountered - literally, i had no idea a finger could cause so much pain - and in the few days we were away, i protected that pinkie like it was the most fragile thing in the world. because we were away, i wasn't able to ice it as we were on the go, though i ran it under cold water whenever i got the chance because that made it feel instantly better. 

i bought stuff to strap it up, but was never able to actually do it because every time i touched it, the pain made me see black. it swelled to chipolata size, and went black and blue within hours. i knew it was bad, but let everyone talk me down to believing it was just a sprain because, who breaks their little finger in a drunken fall? as it turns out, me. i do.

within a few days the swelling went down and eventually the bruising disappeared, and i was able to strap it up. at first i strapped it alongside my ring finger, and then also the middle finger just because pinkies are in such an awks position that this was the most comfortable and easiest way to get it really straight. then mum suggested the ol' magnum stick idea, to ensure it was healing straight. that was a bold move that saw me eat three pink magnum's to find the ~best stick for the splint, but it did the trick.

well, kind of. yeah it kept my finger straight, but i'd keep banging it on ~evvvverything, and get the stick caught on everything and come this monday i was pretty concerned. most humans would have sought treatment much sooner than a lapsed month, but... *i've been busy*, and my doctor had been on holidays, so i had to wait until she was back. i wasn't prepared to wait six hours in a&e if it ~was just a sprain (i think i knew it wasn't), and was desperately trying to convince myself it was getting better.

first thing's first, my doctor applauded my home remedy, saying it's all she would have done in the first instance anyway. so suck on ~that all you nay sayers (of which there are many!). she referred me for an x-ray at the hospital too, just to make sure there wasn't anything else going on, and did sort of drop into the convo the idea of surgery if it was really bad, but she was pretty convinced a splint would do the trick.

on thursday i headed along for my x-ray appointment early doors. really early. at the hospital. where i was referred, thinking that would be quicker than going to a&e... i had my x-ray fairly quickly, then was asked to wait a bit longer while a doctor looked them over. then i was referred to orthopaedic because a fracture was confirmed. when i was finally called through to speak to the nurse about my options, he was ~shocked the doctor commended the splint, and said he thought i was proper 'ard for knocking about for a month with nothing but a magnum stick an ibuprofen for help, because they "don't see this type if break on girls"...

and that's when he told me about the cast. apparently the type of fracture i have warrants the need for drastic and ridiculous measures, also know as a plaster cast. according to the nhs website page about fractured fingers, this is pretty common. it ~also suggests a lolly pop stick for first aid of a broken, so again i say to my nay sayers, "how do you like ~them apples?"

i tried to talk him out of it, saying there ~must be other ways, but he assured me there wasn't; that if strapping hadn't helped, and considering how fractured it was, the cast was the best option, but that i was under no obligation to proceed. i mean, i had to proceed. when he had me wait for the plaster tech, i started to cry. frustrated, ridiculous tears. this whole stupid story started with a daft fall, peaked with me not wanting to wait to be told it was nothing, just to find myself stuck in a&e waiting for a plaster tech to put me in a cast.

the worst thing isn't now that i have two fingers available on one hand, or that typing one handed is an absolute ball ache, or that washing my hair is now going to become the single most difficult task of my life, or that - well, all those annoying and frustrating things are now my bugs to bear for the next four weeks, it's that i now can't get the tattoo in two weeks that i'd booked in three months ago, because the cast is covering the skin where that was supposed to happen.

and i can't move it because the artist is booked solid and then going travelling. so i either cancel it, even though i've paid a deposit and desperately want the work done, or i get it somewhere else, which i'm not prepared for. ~or i hope that when i go back for my outpatient check up, they take this monstrosity off me and replace it with something ~less obtrusive that will free the forearm. 

had i gone in a month ago, this would be off by now.

pray for me, and learn from my mistakes.