OK, I know my readership is probably going into Hospital Chronicle withdrawl...what, you're not? Damn! Got to work on making my writing more riveting! Anyway, here is the latest installment.
This was a difficult post for me to write since it involves me doing something really stupid. That's arguably the case with my last three or four hospital visits that I've chronicled here, I know, but at least I had the defense in those of saying I was only a kid when they happened. This event happened when I was 19, about six years after my Car Crash incident.
I was living away from home at college, and it was nearing the end of the fall term of my sophmore year. I was really unhappy with where I was attending and what I was studying...and feeling some pressure from a certain group of people I was taking classes with to do better. All of which may have contributed to what I did...or maybe not. At any rate, one evening a fellow student said something that really really upset me and instead of confronting him directly, I stewed over it for a few minutes and ended up punching a wall. This was definitely not a smart course of action, as I'm sure you'll all agree. I got reminded of this many, many times in the following weeks, starting at the hospital.
An x-ray determined that I had fractured the last two knuckles on my left hand. They made a half cast to immobilize the pinky and ring finger of that hand, along with my wrist. All in all, it wasn't a bad cast, and it was removable since it was just wrapped with an ace bandage, so I could take it off when I used the shower. The ER doctor, who was oriental, advised me for the future to hit immobile objects karate-chop style, since your hand can absorb more force that way. Not bad advice, I suppose. Fortunately, I did learn my lesson, and haven't been tempted to take out my frustrations on any walls since then.
One thing that got REALLY old while my hand was healing was people who would ask what I'd done to my hand. When I explained how it happened, the invariable response was, "Well, that was pretty stupid, wasn't it?" This response made me feel like doing something else stupid with my good hand, so I eventually started ignoring people who asked the question, or I'd make up some other story.
My hand ultimately healed with no complications, no surgery or other nastiness required. As an interesting side effect, the two fingers on my left hand are now slightly more flexible than on my right hand. I can easily put my ring finger over my pinky using my left hand, which I can't do with my right one. Strange.
Since I was (and still am) left-handed, and finals were coming up, I got to learn how to write balancing my half-cast on a piece of paper. I didn't do extremely well in the finals, but considering my general dissatisfaction with that university and my program of study, it's probably understandable. I ultimately decided to leave college and enlist in the Air Force, but I did get my degree eventually, from a different university.