A Day in the Life of Me

I am super special.  And amazing.  And talented.

(For those of you wondering, what I just said was TOTAL sarcasm.  Read on to find out why.)

Just in the last week and a half I have injured myself in way too many major ways.  I slipped in a creek and fell on one knee, on a rock, with my full weight.  I slammed my hip into the corner of a counter.  I sliced the front of my leg on a rabbit cage.  I bludgeoned my toe with a block of ice, effectively flattening it.  And just as my knee was recovering, I hit it on the corner of the coffee table.  Needless to say, it hurt to walk.

I do not usually admit to being clumsy or accident prone (and usually I’m not).  But this was just about the most painful week I’ve experienced in a long time.  And then things got really interesting.

You know that “game” where you jump into a pool, and someone throws you a ball in midair?  (I can already see you imagining what horrible thing I managed to do to myself here).  I was at a youth pool party on Sunday, and my dad was throwing a football to some of the guys.  So I went up on the diving board for my turn.  Despite what you may be thinking, I’m actually pretty good at throwing and catching footballs.  Not good for a girl.  Good for anyone.

I was all set to show off my skills, and God was like “Haha, no.”  You know that whole, “pride before a fall” thing?  Yeah.

All set, I jumped out over the pool.  I saw the ball coming right to me.  The perfect throw.  All I had to do was keep my hands open to receive it.  Guess what I didn’t do.  The ball hit my pinkie, ring, and middle fingers of my right hand.  Directly on the tips.

I went underwater and thought “Ow, that feels jammed.”  After resurfacing I grabbed the ball, swam to the side, and threw it to my dad.  For the record, it was a perfect spiral and landed right in his hands.  I had no time to feel pride over my perfect throw, however, because my fingers felt like they were broken.

As it turns out they weren’t all broken.  Just one of them.  Having only been in the pool for about ten minutes, and not wanting to leave yet, I packed my hand in ice and stayed for the rest of the afternoon.  I did splint my finger that night, but didn’t go to the doctor until the next day.  He then referred my to an orthopedic specialist.  It was there that I learned the amount of damage I’d caused.  Seriously, I didn’t think it was that bad because I didn’t get hit that hard.  I was wrong.

Turns out, I fractured the bone severely and partially tore the tendon from the bone.  This is a condition known as “mallet finger”.  In most cases it never fully heals properly, and the end of the finger is permanently crooked.

The instant I heard this the girly girl in me blanched.  She thought Oh no!  An irreversible deformity?  What guy could ever love a girl with a mallet finger?!  Yes, I do have one of “those” inside me, but I usually drown her with logic and reason.  Which is what I did in this case.

I realized that this is something a lot of girls struggle with.  How could a guy be attracted to you if you are overweight?  Or have cancer?  Or a prosthetic?  Or a birthmark?  Or a mallet finger?

Well if he doesn’t, THAT’S HIS LOSS.  If he’s not man enough to accept you despite your faults, no, if he doesn’t love you for them, he is not worthy of you.  There are too many girls who settle for the guy willing to overlook “defects” in order to get what he wants.  I am not one of them.  Mallet finger and all.

Not many guys will admit it, but they have their things too.  I know guys are supposed to like their scars as proof of “man cards” or whatever, but even males are susceptible to insecurities.  For all the dudes reading this, you know what you hate about yourself.  But someone out there loves it.  So think twice before you try to hide/remove/despise it.

As it turns out, if I wear this specialized brace for ten weeks, there’s a good chance that I’ll make a full recovery and regain full function in my finger.  If it happens that I’m stuck with a mallet finger for the rest of my life I know that the people around me will love me anyway.

Because if they don’t, it’s their problem.

/sīˈkädik/

Because murdering people is frowned upon, a blog is much safer for everyone.

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