The more things change…

The more they stay the same. Or is it the more different they get? I can never remember. Anyways, I was going to prattle on about my own health woes but really, even I get tired of that. I’m sure you did a loooong time ago. Like when I was in high school if not sooner. So instead, in a minute, I’ll talk about Lil Lotto’s. As for me [because I know deep down you’re all really just dying to know], suffice to say PT is not helping my knee [yet] and my right ulnar nerve is now at least as upset with me as my knee, albeit sans the swelling. However, I did ride 25-ish miles on Wednesday, 60 or so on Thursday, and about 35 hilly ones yesterday. Plus, I am now sitting by the pool at the Radisson in Austin, icing both the leg hinge and my forearm. Yes. I know. I am the 2nd luckiest person alive, no matter how my leg and arm feel. But I digress.

In a recent comment I promised (warned?) that I’d talk about Sherrie’s recent medical mishap, so here goes…

The preface: For about 7 years now, before Lil Lotto goes to play basketball, we do this little special handshake thingy, and I say “be careful, no injuries”. She won’t leave until we do it. Superstitious and just a little goofy? Yes. But. Given how hard she plays, and who she plays with/against (lots of former and current college players) I’d say she’s been remarkably successful at doing exactly as I’ve been instructing, and if it ain’t broke, ya know?

Last Monday night: Li’l comes home and walks into the living room holding her hand wrapped in a towel. I didn’t do what you told me to do, she says. I sigh. She unwraps the towel to show its {surprisingly} bloody insides. It’s her right ring finger bleeding at the base of her finger nail. She wipes the blood so I can have a better look. Lucky me. She says she got hit on the tip of it (with the ball or someone’s arm, she’s still not sure which) and it seems to have caused a bit of an adhesion problem with the base of her nail, but it’s still fully attached, and normal looking, at the end. Basically, the nail is detached at the bottom and sort of laying on top of the skin, instead of under it, like it’s spodda be. She’s surprisingly calm. That just can’t be good, I’m thinking to myself.

It’s not broken, she keeps telling me, clearly trying to convince herself of the same. She gingerly taps the end of it on various objects as proof. MmmmHmmmm, I’m thinking… keep telling yourself that - it at least makes it less likely that I’ll be spending the next 6 hours of my life in an ER. We then proceed to the next logical step: high quality internet medical research, and conclude that the question is whether she’s injured the nail’s growth plate. ‘Parently that ain’t a real good idear. Years of disfigurement coupled with copious amounts of pain and suffering, or so Medweb says.

Wednesday morning: She calls in a favor and gets in to see our orthopedic doc friend who’s normally booked 5 months out. Lotto calls me as she’s leaving the doc’s office. The reason the nail came off where it did? That'd be because that’s where the bottom ½ of the broken tip of her finger was trying to escape the confines of her skin. Seems only the hardness of the nail kept it from succeeding. What luck, huh? But that’s not all. The 2 pieces of the bone are sitting on top of each other. It needs a pin. And, she might need to have the nail taken off, but they won’t know until the surgery, which needs to take place ASAP. As in Friday. As in the day we’re spodda be in Indiana and she’s spodda be doin' prep for an arbitration there. {Fortunately, it settled}

Friday: we get to the surg-center on time. They, however, are running a tad behind. Her 11:45 am surgery started at 2:45 pm. When they finally got around to it, they pinned the bones together and then removed the nail and replaced it with a piece of tinfoil. {I woulda used duct tape but I gotta say, the stitch they used to hold the tinfoil on is a nice touch. It's quite fetching, doncha think?.} They warned her it’d be sore (natch) but it’d get better in a few days. It will get more tender though, they warned, when the pin (pretty much just a wire that resembles a piece of a paperclip) starts trying to work itself out the end of her finger. That oughtta be fun. Something to look forward to, for both of us, I guess.

Currently (the Happy Ending): Thanks to a nifty little splint the occupational therapist whipped up, Little Miss S. is on a course near Lake Travis, Texas, taking her frustrations out on some poor unsuspecting golf balls. Ain't life grand?

P.S. Bike riding in Austin? Not all that and a bag of Cheetos, like Fancy Pants and friends claim, at least not where my pals at the bike shop told me to ride. Oh well.