My Thumb

A classic scene from The Pope of Greenwich Village, a movie from the 1980’s that helped launch Mickey Rourke (back when he actually looked normal) into stardom. Eric Roberts not so much, but his sister eventually did pretty good.

If you ask me, Paulie should harden the fuck up. After all, it’s just his left hand. Try losing the use of your right thumb, then we’ll talk. Kay?

If you’ll recall, back in November I snapped a ligament at cross provincials. The ligament that makes your thumb work. The injury is commonly referred to as Gameskeeper’s thumb, or Skier’s Thumb. Odd considering I don’t really ski, nor do I keep game.

Eight weeks, three casts and a thumb splint later, it’s not much better. There is swelling, bruising, and a shitload of frustration. With all the physio I do, I am now the Jane Fonda of thumb exercises.

A strength test this week had my right hand at roughly 20% the strength of my left. Apparently I have a long way to go. I’d love to say there are good days and bad days, but unfortunately every day is pretty much the same, with my thumb looking like it belongs to a dead person who has been floating in a lake for a month.

I drop everything, and have found even the most banal tasks challenging. Doing up zippers makes me break out in a sweat. When I swipe my debit card, nine times out of ten it ends up on the floor. Notes I write by hand look like they have been written under the influence of copious amount of alcohol, which is extra awesome when I have to write a note to one of the kids’ teachers. “Deer Mmdamme Dohbjfv, Plleeeze exchuse Julien frm classss thiz afeternooon ass hhe hazz an appoinmmnent wif thu dentisht.”


The silver lining (if there is one) to this shitty storm cloud, is that it is January right now, and not May. While I am quite capable of riding my indoor trainer, without the ability to operate brakes and shift gears, riding on the road would be unadvisable. Or suicide. Not that riding in minus 30 really appeals to me anyway. Maybe I’m the one who needs to harden the fuck up.

Coincidentally, I have exactly 9 1/2 Weeks to heal before I go to Arizona. Weird.