DIDN'T DODGE BALL

I don't remember if I've always been stubborn or if it's something that develops with age. Or perhaps I'm good at finding excuses to put things off when they should be looked after right away.

February 14 is romantically meaningful for many people. Me, I spent it playing dodge ball. I'm not sure if it was because the team that we were playing against had a large number of people who dreaded this day (for them, it's known as Singles Awareness Day), but there was a lot of aggression on the court that night. For a supposedly fun game that has its roots in an elementary school gymnasium, it got ugly. To make things worse, I took a rocket directly off my right pinky finger. Right away, I knew that something was wrong because it was locked in a curled up position - I couldn't unbend my finger.

Convinced that it would heal on its own, time passed without seeking proper attention. Finally, after about 2 months of staring at my finger that looked like it was ready to give birth, I caved in and walked into a medical clinic. The first doctor that saw me scolded me, though I had just met him, for not getting this looked at earlier. He said that the tendon is probably unrepairable and that I might need surgery. He sent me to go get x-rays. No broken bones, which was good news. I returned to the clinic about a week later to get further advice. A second doctor also scolded me for not having this looked at earlier. She was not shy at all in mentioning that this might be a permanent disability. Ouch. She referred me to a hand specialist. Finally, on April 23, I got an appointment to see Dr. Campbell at the Foothills Medical Centre.

After waiting for almost an hour, a tall, young man strolled in, decked out in matching hospital green scrubs. He was a very friendly person and immediately shook my hand. Darn, I wished he read the chart first, because he had a pretty firm grip and just about ripped my very tender pinky out of its socket. After regaining consciousness, I was able to explain to him what was wrong with my finger. He took a very quick glance at it and knew right away what the issue was. He is a hand specialist after all. He quickly pulled up a rolly stool, whipped out his pen, and began detailing his diagnosis on his pants. What?! No word of a lie, he started drawing the metacarpal and phalange bones that made up my pinky finger (proper orientation of the diagram facing me, nonetheless) and finished off by drawing the damaged tendon that connects the metacarpal to the 1st row phalange and the 2 lateral bands that support it. Basically, I had damaged this one centre band and the 2 sides ones were trying to compensate, thus causing my finger to stay in a permanently curled position. Mentally prepared to hear the S word, he proceeds to tell me that surgery is NOT required! The idea is to immobilize the finger in a splint so that the damaged tendon can heal (scar tissuing) and the 2 side bands will fall back into place. I had what is known as a Boutonniere Deformity. This intrigued him and he casually whipped out a digital camera and took a spare towel that was lying around. "My interns have read all about this but they rarely get to see it. Would you mind?" So, my scrub drawing doctor proceeds to stage my finger in various poses and starts snapping away. Interesting to think that some aspiring hand surgeon will have to pass an exam with a picture of my finger!

With the increasingly nice weather, people are more inclined to play outdoors, so dodge ball season is now over. We capped it off with a dodge ball party where we feasted on prosciutto wrapped shrimp, phyllo Mediterranean pizza, sangrias, a healthy game of Scattegories and some very evil mini eclairs.



My original full pinky splint...










I've graduated to a half pinky splint...