Typing Left-handed
Yesterday we had four of Jacob's friends over for his third birthday, followed by a dinner party for all the grandparents and Alicia's sister. I figured the worst was over...
This morning, I'm just starting to make the first waffle when I stop to take care of something for Jacob. Leaning over, I get bonked in the head and hear an "oops, sorry" from Alicia's sister. I look up to see gleam of open scissors in her hand, which she is flailing about to curl ribbons on Easter presents. Thankfully, no blood visible or felt from my skull.
However, with breakfast running late and the realization that this could have easily been my child's head hitting the pointy parts, I got a little frustrated/enraged. And when I get frustrated/enraged and don't know where to direct my anger, I sometimes punch a wall to let the energy out. It feels like it works and I always have a good sense of pulling the punch to the right distance.
Until now.
Gary's hand, meet good solid cabinetry.
I quickly realized that it was probably broken. And the image of the knife-like scissors kept flashing before me. And I was desperately trying to make sure the first waffle wasn't burning between screaming children and I began to have the realization that I was feeling rather faint. Probably that needle phobia of mine projecting to anything sharp that might enter my body. (I swear I must have been run through by a sword in a previous life.) I made a dash for the bed and passed out there, leaving the waffle iron in the care of Alicia. I was revived in time to come out and explain the situation to my family and in-laws as they arrived for our Easter egg hunt.
4 1/2 hours of sitting at NFRMC later, I formally learn that it is indeed broken. Specifically, I have a boxer's fracture. This is defined on Wikipedia as follows: ...the common name for a fracture at the neck of the fifth metacarpal bone. It is usually caused by the impact of a clenched fist with an immovable object....
Unfortunately, the splint and care instructions quickly brought home the reality of my actions. My right arm is pretty much useless until this heals (possibly 4-6 weeks). Typing one-handed I can handle. (No jokes about getting lots of practice!). Picking up my children to tend to them, change their diapers, etc... not so much. So my already frazzled wife is going to have to pick up my slack because I can't control my temper.
That's a consequence I wasn't prepared for.
This morning, I'm just starting to make the first waffle when I stop to take care of something for Jacob. Leaning over, I get bonked in the head and hear an "oops, sorry" from Alicia's sister. I look up to see gleam of open scissors in her hand, which she is flailing about to curl ribbons on Easter presents. Thankfully, no blood visible or felt from my skull.
However, with breakfast running late and the realization that this could have easily been my child's head hitting the pointy parts, I got a little frustrated/enraged. And when I get frustrated/enraged and don't know where to direct my anger, I sometimes punch a wall to let the energy out. It feels like it works and I always have a good sense of pulling the punch to the right distance.
Until now.
Gary's hand, meet good solid cabinetry.
I quickly realized that it was probably broken. And the image of the knife-like scissors kept flashing before me. And I was desperately trying to make sure the first waffle wasn't burning between screaming children and I began to have the realization that I was feeling rather faint. Probably that needle phobia of mine projecting to anything sharp that might enter my body. (I swear I must have been run through by a sword in a previous life.) I made a dash for the bed and passed out there, leaving the waffle iron in the care of Alicia. I was revived in time to come out and explain the situation to my family and in-laws as they arrived for our Easter egg hunt.
4 1/2 hours of sitting at NFRMC later, I formally learn that it is indeed broken. Specifically, I have a boxer's fracture. This is defined on Wikipedia as follows: ...the common name for a fracture at the neck of the fifth metacarpal bone. It is usually caused by the impact of a clenched fist with an immovable object....
Unfortunately, the splint and care instructions quickly brought home the reality of my actions. My right arm is pretty much useless until this heals (possibly 4-6 weeks). Typing one-handed I can handle. (No jokes about getting lots of practice!). Picking up my children to tend to them, change their diapers, etc... not so much. So my already frazzled wife is going to have to pick up my slack because I can't control my temper.
That's a consequence I wasn't prepared for.