Saturday, July 12, 2008

The Saga of the Sore Thumb

So what do you think? Does it stick out like a sore thumb? Does it make you think, in Willow's words (as I remember them), "Man, that baby's sore!"

Many months ago, I burned myself and wrote up this post. But I hadn't uploaded the pictures yet. So. I burned myself making cookies. The potholder slipped or something (at any rate it obviously wasn't quite where I expected it to be) and my bare thumb grasped the pan.

Really, it sticks out like a sore thumb by definition, although sore is hardly the word. It didn't start feeling that good until the next day.

I'm always rather fascinated by my own wounds, and so John always jokes when I hurt myself that I'm probably thinking of taking pictures and posting about it on my blog. This time, I decided it'd be fun to humor him. I didn't realize how hard it would be.

The camera refused to focus on my thumb at the distance necessary to show detail. And, of course, my thumb refused to stay away from cold water or ice for any considerable length of time. I normally am against giving in to hostile demands and threats, but it seemed that doctors would take the thumb's view of things.

So I provided it with a bowl to carry everywhere, before getting out some ice, which required more dexterity and patience. (Have you ever tried to open a zip-loc bag without using your left thumb? Apparently it's a funny sight.) What was shown to be nearly impossible, however, was taking a picture of my good hand for comparative purposes. I will prove this by putting up a low-quality photograph. Yes, that'll prove my point. Really. See?

Prop the camera on the knee so the index finger can snap the picture, try not to get water on the camera... ack, too much! Plunge the thumb back into the water! Ah, blessed relief...

Seemed like a pretty bad burn at the time, but two days later and I can easily rub it -- it just feels like skin that's been pinched a little. Yesterday morning I instinctively stuck it out to avoid brushing whatever my other fingers were holding. But I put a band-aid on and that began to subside, and no one asked me what had happened to my thumb, so I guess, even sore, they can be rather inconspicuous. Like cutting a couple inches from waist-length hair. Now I know.

(Later, as my hands are dried out and dirty from packing books, there's a patch on my thumb both more shiny than the other skin and with more lines across it, as though first melted into glass, and then cracked. I know you wanted to know that, just as I now know of the relative inconspicuousness [but wouldn't it be more fun to call it inconspicuosity?] of sore thumbs.)

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