As I'm sure you've realized, I haven't posted in quite some time. I haven't been able to type for the last 6 weeks, and it is still a little sketchy.
Back on July 6, I went out cycling, and had a bike accident. I don't really know what happened, but I fell. When I peeled myself off of the concrete from a face down position, my left pinky finger was broken in an unlikely way. It was stuck in a crooked position, and I knew the a visit to the ER was imminent.
However, I was out by myself, and had to "effect self rescue" as the guys on Dual Survival would say. Thankfully, I has my trusty iphone with me. I dug it out of my bike bag and called my parents; but, they were working in the yard and didn't here the phone. My brother was much further away (20 mi.) , but I called him anyway. He answered the phone and began to make his way to me. He was definitely my hero that night.
While waiting for him a couple things happened. Nice people came by and moved my bike out of the way of other traffic on the levee, checked on me, and offered to go by my house to tell my parents. Me, being a photographer, felt the urge to share a picture of my broken finger on Facebook. Some people appreciated this, some were horrified by the picture, and others were horrified that I was taking pictures instead of crying. After that, I had to make my way to a spot where Chris could pick me up, so I walked my bike with my right hand about 1/2 a mile with my phone tucked under my left arm with the mangled finger to be ready for his call.
I spent the evening in the ER, and the staff at West Jeff was pretty great. My brother was so freaked the whole time because he doesn't like hospitals, but he was a trooper hanging out with me there. I did my best to entertain him, even though that bothered him as well...I guess he thought I should cry or something because of the swelling and relentless throbbing of my finger.
Obviously, I left the hospital late that night with a reset finger, my arm in a cast, and a handy prescription for anti-nausea and pain medicine. I was pretty out of it from being sedated for the resetting portion of the evening, but the family got me home and into bed.
Then, the road to recovery began, but more about that in future posts. I've been documenting the process, so here are three images from the beginning. The initial shot I posted to Facebook (a little blurry but my hand was shaking), a better one I forced my brother to take while waiting in the ER, and the first of my three casts. Enjoy!
Back on July 6, I went out cycling, and had a bike accident. I don't really know what happened, but I fell. When I peeled myself off of the concrete from a face down position, my left pinky finger was broken in an unlikely way. It was stuck in a crooked position, and I knew the a visit to the ER was imminent.
However, I was out by myself, and had to "effect self rescue" as the guys on Dual Survival would say. Thankfully, I has my trusty iphone with me. I dug it out of my bike bag and called my parents; but, they were working in the yard and didn't here the phone. My brother was much further away (20 mi.) , but I called him anyway. He answered the phone and began to make his way to me. He was definitely my hero that night.
While waiting for him a couple things happened. Nice people came by and moved my bike out of the way of other traffic on the levee, checked on me, and offered to go by my house to tell my parents. Me, being a photographer, felt the urge to share a picture of my broken finger on Facebook. Some people appreciated this, some were horrified by the picture, and others were horrified that I was taking pictures instead of crying. After that, I had to make my way to a spot where Chris could pick me up, so I walked my bike with my right hand about 1/2 a mile with my phone tucked under my left arm with the mangled finger to be ready for his call.
I spent the evening in the ER, and the staff at West Jeff was pretty great. My brother was so freaked the whole time because he doesn't like hospitals, but he was a trooper hanging out with me there. I did my best to entertain him, even though that bothered him as well...I guess he thought I should cry or something because of the swelling and relentless throbbing of my finger.
Obviously, I left the hospital late that night with a reset finger, my arm in a cast, and a handy prescription for anti-nausea and pain medicine. I was pretty out of it from being sedated for the resetting portion of the evening, but the family got me home and into bed.
Then, the road to recovery began, but more about that in future posts. I've been documenting the process, so here are three images from the beginning. The initial shot I posted to Facebook (a little blurry but my hand was shaking), a better one I forced my brother to take while waiting in the ER, and the first of my three casts. Enjoy!
Sooooo sorry for your broken finger & survivor-esque adventure. But, hey! Silver lining! "Busted Phalange" is one of the best band names I've heard in quite some time. I'm thinking it needs to be post-progressive punk with ska influences. Make it happen & I'll be your backup dancer.
ReplyDeleteOk, I just posted the above comment & then had to do the little write-the-silly-word-to-prove-I'm-not-spam thingy. The word they asked me to write? Buste -- sooo appropriate for the post!
ReplyDeleteMiss you! Too bad I can't play an instrument or sing.
ReplyDeleteThis does not stop most people who are in bands. Especially post-progressive punk bands with ska influences.
ReplyDeleteHow are you at whistling?
I can dance...at least I think I remember how.
ReplyDelete