The deep south recently experienced a winter storm for the record books. It wreaked havoc on millions of people in various ways. I was shocked and amused at the same time at how ill-prepared the state of Mississippi is for this type of event. The entire town essentially just shut down. Our mail didn’t get delivered for an entire week. An ENTIRE week! All the government offices were closed. Most restaurants were closed. Even the grocery stores and casinos (which never close) were closed. Hotels along the interstate were overflowing because the highway was shut down and people were stranded. It was epic.
I think we can all agree that 2020 was not the year any of us expected it to be. Unless the conspiracy theorists are right and somebody did viciously release the coronavirus on purpose, then that person(s) had an epic year. But, it for sure was a pretty crappy year for the majority of the populace.
So, it was an average day, like any other. Sort of. It was actually a holiday and about a bazillion degrees outside. I was sitting at my computer writing, like a good little writer does. After adding several thousand words to my current manuscript, I decided it was time to call it a day. Have a brewski, watch some t.v. and relax.
So there I sat, relaxing and drinking beer. Until I realized that my ring finger on my left hand was throbbing something fierce. I looked at it and thought, “Hm. That looks a little red (purple actually) and swollen. Wonder why?”
Photo courtesy Google Images
Must be the heat, I decided. In an effort to relieve the pressure on my finger I wiggled my amazingly beautiful wedding ring around the swollen appendage in an effort to remove it. Pretty ring wouldn’t budge.
“I’ve got to get this thing off!” I twirled the golden sphere and pulled it and yanked on it, applying spit, soap, lotion, ice, everything I could think of to get the blasted piece of junk off my finger. Finally, after much sweating and swearing the dang hunk of obnoxious metal came off. But my finger . . . holy macaroni . . . it was burning and throbbing at almost unbearable proportions.
For a week I iced it and even tried wrapping a very small Ace bandage around it. Swelling did not go away. After another week, I decided it might be time to see a professional.
My regular doctor was on vacation so I was “squeezed in” to see her associate.
Photo courtesy Google Images
The doctor took all of two and a half minutes to look at my finger and tell me it was swollen. (“Ya, think?” I should have been a doctor cuz I figured that one out right away.) He sent me for an x-ray, which of course came back all clear, nothing cracked, snapped or popped inside. He prescribed a ten-day regime of Ibuprofen therapy for the swelling and told me to come back if didn’t get better.
And then it happened. On my way out of the doctor’s office he, a perfect stranger, years younger than me, said, “Looks like in just a few months you’ll be fifty. Don’t forget to schedule a colonoscopy along with your regular annual physical.”
Fighting the urge to flip him the bird with my not swollen middle finger, I smiled (sort of) and said, “Thank you.” And then I silently added, “Asshole.” Like I needed that little reminder.
I have a swollen finger for no apparent reason, I can’t wear my wedding ring, which upsets my husband who thinks I’m using this as an excuse to pick up guys (like who’s going to want a 50-year-old woman with a swollen purple finger), and for the next few months I get to look forward to my annual exam complete with colonoscopy!
I’m a lucky girl!
And here’s a little tip. It’s funny, short, and includes a very short history lesson. Check it out.
So, how about you? How’s things going in your world? What little “reminders” do you wish you hadn’t gotten?
Word of the day: Ecclesiology
Fun fact about me: Sometimes I can whistle and sometimes I can’t. And it’s always when I really, really want to that it won’t happen.
Original post by Jansen Schmidt, July 2013. Photos courtesy Google Images. Video courtesy YouTube.
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