Is It Really That Hard? Broken Bones

My friends, it's been a long week. Ever since I broke my finger, everything takes just a little bit longer. Making me just a little bit more irritable. But if you add up all the extra time on tasks, and all the extra irritability .... well, I haven't been very pleasant to be around.

Tuesday afternoon I went back to the doctor for my one-week check-up. Same doctor's office, same x-rays, different doctor. This doctor told me that there'd been a mistake—my finger wasn't broken after all. Fantastic! I could start taking off the splint at night and even stop wearing it after Friday. My hand would still be lovely shades of green and purple for my brother-in-law's wedding this weekend, but at least I could take the splint off for the pictures.

As soon as I got home, I took off the splint and reveled in the feeling of fresh air on my skin. I took a shower, I iced the finger, I tried bending it (without much success, as it was still pretty swollen). I told Keith the good news, and I went to bed happy knowing that I'd be back to 100% much sooner than expected.

And then, Wednesday morning, I started to wonder. What if the second doctor was wrong, and the first one was right? What if it was broken after all? Currently, I had a tie between the two diagnoses. I needed another opinion—something to convince me that it definitely was or wasn't broken.

I tried my regular doctor's office, but they wouldn't look at the x-rays unless I made another appointment, which would mean more time off work and another co-pay. Not that I like to chintz on my healthcare or anything, but I don't particularly enjoy spending $20 every other day because the medical community can't make up its mind about one simple proximal phalanx. Eventually, I ended up calling back the Urgentcare and speaking with my original doctor—the one who said it was broken.

The conversation was reassuring. He said that he had probably made a mistake in his initial diagnosis because he took a quick look. The films had been sent to a radiologist for review, and if the radiologist said it wasn't broken, then that was probably the case. The doctor would review the films when they came back to their office tomorrow and he'd give me a call to confirm.

So, not reassuring in that the initial diagnosis was still wrong. But at this point, I had been given two differing opinions and that fact wasn't going to change. Best-case scenario is that the broken finger diagnosis was the wrong one, and I was in better shape than originally thought. Once again, I took the splint off when I got home from my run, showered, did laundry, etc.

Keith splinted me up again this morning before work—for the last time!—and he left. Ten or 15 minutes later, I grabbed my garage door opener on my way out the door. But my fingers are not nearly as nimble these days, and I dropped it. It fell completely apart, and I couldn't get it to work again.

This meant I had no way to get my car out of the garage. There's no way into the garage other than through the electronically opened doors. No manual override. No extra garage door opener. Just the one that I had broken and was now useless.

A spot of good luck—just then I heard my neighbor leaving for work, so I hitched a ride with him. I was at my desk, wondering what to do about the garage door opener (Do I get it fixed? Where? How long will that take? What am I going to do in the meantime?), when the phone rang. It was the doctor. He'd reviewed my x-rays again and was calling to tell me the radiologist had made a mistake—the finger is definitely broken ... he'll be happy to show me where on the x-ray when I come back in next week.

It feels like I broke my finger all over again (minus the fall and the nausea). All of these things I'd been looking forward to doing without the splint ... I was disappointed all over again. And I have another doctor's appointment=more missed work and another $20 co-pay.

But I'm trying to think positively. I just have to accept that it's broken and move forward. This means that:

• I'll enjoy seeing how the photographer arranges the family so as to hide my un-fashionable splint.
• I have a conversation-starter for the appetizers portion of the evening.
• My pinkie will always be delicately extended when sipping my wine. And I intend to be sipping a lot of wine!