The Value of a Thumb

Amazing how you don't realize how important EVERY body part is until one is out of commission.  (Seems like there is a spiritual application there...)

I'm having to type this a little more slowly than usual, because every space bar push must be done with my left thumb--which I never use for that.  But my right thumb is useless right now.

Last night as I was getting out of Mom and Dad's car, I managed to slam the door on my thumb.  Don't ask how it happened--I don't know.  It hurt like crazy, but I had already said goodbye to them, so didn't let on.  "Just get in the house; just get in the house and get it under cold water."  But once in the garage, I could see that it was pouring blood.  The "just bruised" thumb was a seriously lacerated one.  Oh, it's bruised, too.  All the way through.  But the gash at the base of the nail is not pretty.  I needed half a Lortab to get the throbbing to stop enough to sleep.

Even though I'm left-handed, there is still much that is difficult to do.  I have found out that it's almost impossible to put rings on a left hand without using the right thumb.  Or lock a deadbolt door.  Or put on or take off certain articles of clothing.  Or pass out test papers in a classroom.  Or tear lettuce for a salad.  Or take the little plastic cover off of a bowl of fruit (the kind you buy in a four-pack for lunches).  I felt a little silly having to ask for help at lunch today.  Thank goodness I had my dad to help me unload some packages and chauffeur me around today (since Mike had to use my car, which is another matter).

I will spare you a picture.  At least until it looks a little better.