Let me preface this by saying that it's not that exciting. If that doesn't tempt you to keep reading, I don't know what will. :p
What's new? I fractured my finger. My MIDDLE finger. On my left hand. I am left-handed. It sucks. Don't think I'm a terrible cat mom, but here's how it happened: Yesterday while getting ready for work, Nikko came SCREAMING out of the closet and decided, 'hey, that leg looks mighty tasty,' and proceeded to wrap his wee little legs around my ankle and sink his vampire fangs into my skin. Tracie ain't having none of that. I went to swat him, and completely whiffed and hit the wall with my finger. I head a SNAP, said a few choice curse words, saw stars and passed out. Oh, and I barfed. Yeah, me + pain = no good. What am I going to do when one day I have to give birth??
I thought maybe I had just dislocated it, since after some heavy breathing, more curse words, and mental psyching up, I could bend it. I decided to pop some Tylenol and head to work.
Where I lasted all of 30 minutes. After much scrutiny and teeth gritting, I decided that, yep, it was turning purple. Classic sign of something not good. I headed off to the hospital on base, where, as the ONLY person in the waiting room, I sat for 45-freaking minutes. I'll admit there were tears. It HURT!!! FINALLY, thank the Lord, someone came to get me. He said, go up to Radiology and get an X-ray and then come back down here. M'kay, upstairs I go, only to wait 45 MORE minutes for four X-rays. Ridic. Come back down to the ER, sit in a room for 30 more minutes, overhear the doctors and nurses talking about me: "She said she went to hit her cat and missed," "She hit her cat?" "No way she hit her cat, cats aren't that solid." "No, she missed and hit something else." I swear, if there were CPS for animals, they'd have been on my case like a fly on poo. The doctor comes in and I explain that I don't make a habit of hitting my cat, I promise. She chuckled, but inside I know I am like Michael Vick in her eyes. Fantastic. She says I have a fracture, and sends me up to Orthopedics for a splint.
I get up there and some douchebag tries to give me this splint that was all messed up. I fractured the middle joint, the one that bends the most and he tries to give me a splint that stabilizes the tip of my finger. Dude, that's not going to work. It's the only thing they have (lovely, our military hospital care) and it'll have to work.
Finally, I'm free to go. I figured I'd go by good 'ol Kmart and buy a splint later. Except they don't have any. I am now sportin' a hot, must have trend for spring on my finger - a Haagen Dazs popsicle stick, COMPLETE with the logo for EVERYONE to see. Don't be jealous. Oh, and I didn't even get to eat the yummy Dazs goodness, Token scraped it all off into the trash and gave me the stick. My hubby - quite the charmer.
Just so you know, it took me over an hour to type this. And it looks like I'm flipping everyone off. I could use this to my advantage. Mwahahaha.