That’s Right, I’m Giving You the Finger…

…update.

Let me begin by personally thanking everyone for all the well wishes and heartfelt surgery-free thoughts after my devastating sports injury on Thursday night.

They worked!

I met with an orthopedic surgeon this morning and he told me that my finger sustained no ligament or tendon damage. While I have a ton of swelling due to the significance of the dislocation, he explained that my super-human strength prevented what could have resulted in amputation had I been a mere mortal.

He also recommended a strict regimen of couch-based relaxation, increased Red Velvet Cake ice cream consumption, and an almost unnatural amount of sexual healing from my wife.

Heather has her doubts about the legitimacy of the recommendations but she wasn’t there to make sure I heard him right. So, left to my own interpretation and recollection, this is the sage advice I remember. Besides, what does she have to complain about? He’s doing her a favor with the last one. I might even share my Ben & Jerry’s if we’re positioned right.

I must admit that part of me was hoping for a more dire diagnosis. While I would have hated being out of action for an extended period of time, it would have justified all the whining, wincing, and repeated requests for “just one more” numbing injection. Instead, I’ve gone from Edward Manglehands to this:

Which is quite a departure from this:

He recommended that I stay away from a basketball court for 10-12 days but relented when I pointed out that while that might be the perfect amount of time for those less adept at fast healing, intergalactic orphans born with a giant “S” on their pajamas can withstand a faster return. After verifying my status with the League of Justice, I’ve been cleared to play Thursday night so long as I buddy-tape my superhero finger with its neighbor.

I told Heather that my rate of healing depends entirely on my adherence to the surgeon’s recommendations. Should she feign fatigue or run out of spoons, my recovery will be severely impacted. Still, it’ll be great to get playing again. I miss it already and I’d rather play with one good hand than not play at all. Besides, I can’t do anything with my left hand anyhow, so it’s not like I’ll really be missing anything.

Some of you posted questions about my injury in your comments but I found it too difficult to type a response. Considering you cared enough to comment and pose questions, I feel it’s only fair that I answer each one, albeit a few days late.

BenSpark: “Um, so how’d you type this?”
Slowly. Very slowly. My spell-checker was smokin’ by the end of the post.

Jennifer: “Oh Greg, I am so sorry to hear about this. And can I just say “OMG OWWW!!!”.
Feel free. It’s about what I was saying, minus the occasional M’er F’er F-Bombs.

Karen: “Who thinks of bringing a camera along to the ER?”
Fortunately, my Droid comes with a camera, as with most cell phones and electronical gadgets these days. It won’t be long before diabetics will be able to snap Twitpics while checking their glucose levels. The doctor had no problem with us taking pictures but they thwarted any attempt at video. He probably took my comment about putting the video to “The Imperial March” too seriously.

Melinda: “Why is your belly sweating?”
When you’re 41, everything starts to leak. But in this case, it’s from me wiping my forehead. Without hair up there to absorb sweat, I drip like a rainforest canopy. Oh, and it’s not a belly. It’s called a washboard.

unformedmatter: “Isn’t this post curiously close to the post where you were waxing eloquent on being the youngest fittest member of team geezer? Was the hit friendly fire?”
This actually happened AFTER the geezer game (which we WON, by the way) while I was playing at the downtown Rec Center against a bunch of youngin’s. The offending finger bender was a senior at my son’s high school who’s half my size. Don’t worry, reparations will be made. An eye for an eye, a finger for a finger. He felt bad about the injury but I think it’s mostly rooted in fear.

Shan: “How are you seeing an Orthopedic Surgeon on Monday? It’s MLK Day. A Federal Holiday.”
Doctors aren’t Federal and most hate bureaucracy anyhow. They keep their offices open in protest.

Brandy: “What about the ring? Does it get replaced somehow?”
I took it to the local jeweler and he said he’ll be able to repair it to where it’ll only be distinguishable with an eye loop. Fake gold is surprisingly resilient. I told the jeweler that I don’t want a new ring. This is the one she placed on my finger and this is the one I want. I don’t need it to be perfect. Especially when what it symbolizes already is.

Becky: “Well done (on both the injury and the post)! You are definitely an over-achiever, Greg. Do you do anything halfway?”
Only things related to cleaning, housework, finances, getting directions, packing, washing the car, discipline, laundry, dishes, paperwork, exercise, furniture assembly, yardwork, animal care, plant watering, taking out the trash, recycling, home repair, hanging up coats, putting shoes away, shopping, mailing things, and picking up after myself.

But beyond that? Yeah, I’m pretty much an “all out” kind of guy. Thank you for noticing.

To wrap this up, thank you again everyone! All of your comments, laughter, and well wishes meant a lot to me.

I’m typing a bit faster than before now that my finger has the ability to bend almost TWO whole degrees, so I should be back to normal soon.

Considering my finger was pretty much backwards before, it’s apparent that I’m healing just as a superhero should.

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