Sherri Cornelius

So I hurt my hand on Friday, remember?Once again, I was paying attention to the kids and not where I was going and paid the price. This time we were on our way out, the kids excited about the promised Spring Break trip to the skating rink. They ran ahead, and I called out instructions as I closed the door behind me, and I stepped wrong, twisting my ankle. I put my hand out to catch myself on the stoop and  jammed my middle finger, I guess, on the step with all my weight on it. Something popped, actually several things popped, and I screamed. The pain was so great I was afraid to look at it, so great I forgot how to speak. I knew the kids would be worried, but I couldn't think of what to say.

Unlocking the door seemed an insurmountable challenge, but driving to the skating rink seemed doable for some reason. I didn't want to disappoint the kids, and I thought it wasn't as bad as I thought. I was wrong.

The swelling is almost gone, the bruises have started to fade, but I can see it's going to be weeks before I regain full function of my right hand. It gets tired fast, and the middle finger still isn't right. I can type with it as long as I go slowly and take many breaks, so maybe I can get back into my writing schedule now that the kids are back in school.

Thanks for the supportive comments. This is the last time you'll hear about the hand until I announce that it is completely healed.