It's been six weeks since I fractured my thumb, and it should have healed by now.
It hasn't. I probably did myself a disservice by waiting three days to see a doctor, and I'm also regretting my decision to forego getting an X-ray (because it was inconvenient). I am returning to my doctor's office tomorrow and have not missed the irony that those two decisions will likely make the recovery even more arduous.
In the meantime, I'm really sick and tired of living without the use of my right thumb.
It's funny that we describe a clumsy person as "all thumbs," when my experience these last six weeks has been a series of mishaps from missing just one.
There are the obvious problems with having a broken right thumb: It's difficult to shake hands. It's a little bit harder to juggle bags and packages while holding a cup of coffee. And opening any kind of jar or package is a real struggle.
For the last six weeks, I've taken to keeping a pair of scissors close by, just so I can open things. This is in itself a task, as I'm substituting other fingers for my right thumb.
Friday night, the scissors slipped and I ended up with a gash in my LEFT thumb. So I spent a couple of days sporting a bandage on that hand AND the splint that's been on my right.
And then on Saturday, I ended up scalding my right arm while carrying a bowl of super-hot food. The burn was so bad that it is blistered now.
I've informed my family that they are on their own; I am staying out of the kitchen for a while.
It's safer that way.
