I am feeling a little ragged around the edges. I spent R's naptime today helping C with her Halloween costume while listening in on T's latest distraction, the audio version of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. That would have been a great time on an ordinary day, but I was using a razor blade, a sewing machine, and high temp hot glue gun, all with my left hand. After smashing two of my left fingers yesterday, I am acutely aware of the importance of protecting my useful (albeit clumsy,) left hand. Costume making was an exercise in extreme concentration, careful decision making, and ultimately, frustration.
I've spent enough time over the past few weeks dwelling on the hardships. I would rather seek out the good stuff, the happy things, the every-day joys. I have read that heaven is a collection of good memories--a life well-lived and appreciated.
My good stuff for today: Toddlerisms. A toddler's grasp (and use) of language fascinates and delights me. R uses a few words that, while technically incorrect, are much more descriptive (and oddly accurate) than the correct word.
"Washer," for example. He always wants to get in the shower with me. When he sees me heading for the bathroom with an armful of clean clothes, he demands: "Me take washer with you, Mommy."
Showing posts with label pity party. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pity party. Show all posts
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Gamekeeper's Thumb
Two weeks ago I injured my thumb while playing softball.
I vacillate between thinking it was a stupid thing I did, and an acceptance that risk of injury is part of the game.
I play catcher. I like my position. I don't have many opportunities to make plays, and most of the time when there is a play, the throw is wild, or late, or the runner is really fast (otherwise they wouldn't be sneaking home,) or I'm too slow...I just don't make a lot of outs. It's sweet when I do.
Two weeks ago we were down a few runs in the 5th inning. Several runners on base, 2 outs. Wild throw to the plate. It's the catcher's responsibility to protect the runner from getting hit with a thrown ball. I take that responsibility very seriously. I positioned myself to catch the ball. Unfortunately, I had to be right in the base path to do it. I saw the collision coming. The size of the guy scared me (big guys fall hard and get hurt when they do it,) so I made a conscious decision to accept the impact and not worry about sticking the tag. In hindsight, that was probably my mistake. I let the ball get knocked loose.
The runner behind him (their pitcher) thought he'd take home too, since I was down and the ball was rolling around the backstop. I jumped up and grabbed the ball. He slid head first. I dove and planted the tag in the middle of his back. He didn't get up. The game stopped, his team gathered 'round...maybe you know the kind of moment I'm talking about. Crouching there waiting, I remembered all the other times I'd waited: when my mom got hit in the head and sustained a concussion, when my teammate tore her ACL, when my husband broke his back.... I remembered the times when it was nothing: the wind knocked out, a mild sprain, nothing at all. Standing there, holding that space, breathing and waiting--oh, those moments in life wear on my soul.
At first I was angry with him for making us wait. I thought his pride was hurt--it was a risky move & he got tagged out by his mom. Then, as he continued to lay there, I realized I couldn't feel my thumb.
I was grateful when he finally got up and the game continued. I still couldn't move my thumb, but I had feeling back, so I didn't worry too much.
It turns out I must have hit him pretty hard. I have a complete rupture of my UCL ligament & a broken bone in my right thumb. I have been in an immobilizing splint for two weeks, and I'm looking at 4 more weeks. Chances are good that I will require surgery at the 6 week mark, setting me back to zero with an estimated recovery time of 12-16wks.
I feel pretty sick about hitting someone so hard that I broke bone.
I have learned through its absence that having an opposable thumb is darned handy.
The frustrations are minor, but they add up over the course of a day.
I'm not sure how I'm going to get through this.
I vacillate between thinking it was a stupid thing I did, and an acceptance that risk of injury is part of the game.
I play catcher. I like my position. I don't have many opportunities to make plays, and most of the time when there is a play, the throw is wild, or late, or the runner is really fast (otherwise they wouldn't be sneaking home,) or I'm too slow...I just don't make a lot of outs. It's sweet when I do.
Two weeks ago we were down a few runs in the 5th inning. Several runners on base, 2 outs. Wild throw to the plate. It's the catcher's responsibility to protect the runner from getting hit with a thrown ball. I take that responsibility very seriously. I positioned myself to catch the ball. Unfortunately, I had to be right in the base path to do it. I saw the collision coming. The size of the guy scared me (big guys fall hard and get hurt when they do it,) so I made a conscious decision to accept the impact and not worry about sticking the tag. In hindsight, that was probably my mistake. I let the ball get knocked loose.
The runner behind him (their pitcher) thought he'd take home too, since I was down and the ball was rolling around the backstop. I jumped up and grabbed the ball. He slid head first. I dove and planted the tag in the middle of his back. He didn't get up. The game stopped, his team gathered 'round...maybe you know the kind of moment I'm talking about. Crouching there waiting, I remembered all the other times I'd waited: when my mom got hit in the head and sustained a concussion, when my teammate tore her ACL, when my husband broke his back.... I remembered the times when it was nothing: the wind knocked out, a mild sprain, nothing at all. Standing there, holding that space, breathing and waiting--oh, those moments in life wear on my soul.
At first I was angry with him for making us wait. I thought his pride was hurt--it was a risky move & he got tagged out by his mom. Then, as he continued to lay there, I realized I couldn't feel my thumb.
I was grateful when he finally got up and the game continued. I still couldn't move my thumb, but I had feeling back, so I didn't worry too much.
It turns out I must have hit him pretty hard. I have a complete rupture of my UCL ligament & a broken bone in my right thumb. I have been in an immobilizing splint for two weeks, and I'm looking at 4 more weeks. Chances are good that I will require surgery at the 6 week mark, setting me back to zero with an estimated recovery time of 12-16wks.
I feel pretty sick about hitting someone so hard that I broke bone.
I have learned through its absence that having an opposable thumb is darned handy.
The frustrations are minor, but they add up over the course of a day.
I'm not sure how I'm going to get through this.
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