So my right middle finger is sprained. Apparently pretty severely. At least that's the current theory as proposed by a hand specialist, so I'm willing to have faith in his expert opinion. The solution? A splint on it for two whole weeks and steroids.
As many of you know, my finger has been swollen and painful for the better part of seven months. Totally ridiculous. Not only does it interfere with my ability to drive effectively in our neighborhood (the finger and the horn are universally recognized signs around our neck of the woods), but it huuuurts.
Sprained, I scoffed at the doctor initially. It couldn't be sprained. However, after an extensive and exhaustive look at my history, the good doctor seemed satisfied with his diagnosis in light of the fact that I biked hundreds of miles last season in preparation of the MS 150, and then participated in the ride. The whole time I was complaining about my back and my butt, my middle finger was, well, giving me the finger.
Even though I hung up my bike in April and haven't touched it since, I have always envisioned getting back into the saddle once we settled into the cooler weather. The irony is that I even bought Joe a bike for a wedding present.
I pictured this.
And for now those dreams are crushed.
Thanks to my new status of "Splintzville," my couples skate equivalent of biking with Joe is now splitsville.
Of all the rotten luck.