but hey, in my defense, i didn't think one could break something but still continue to play. yet he often did.
how was i to know they were broken.
i always thought they were sprains.
i hate sitting in ERs.
so boring. so long. and all for what? for an xray and a doctor saying, 'it's just a sprain. ice it and take some ibuprofen.'
i could've told you that - minus the 3 hour wait
even if it is a break, a finger they splint and then send you home with the same advice.
so, when at the end of a basketball game, taylor would say he had a sore finger(s)
i believed him but didn't think they were broken
after all, he'd just played the entire game
"i play thru the pain" he would say
and i'd reply
"i'm so proud of you! here's some ice and an ibuprofen. i'm sure your finger will be fine."
the finger(s) would keep hurting.
eventually, i'd take him to the doctor
sure enough, 3 or 5 or 7 days after the fact, we'd learn that the sore fingers the poor kid had been walking around with were really broken.
oops. sorry 'bout that.
he's never let me live it down
so on friday, when parker started complaining that his finger was really sore, i only made him wait one whole day. i know, right? old habits die hard.
and of course, the sore fingers thing applies to me too. it's a story i don't let graham forget!
way back in 2007 i was just a few months into treatment... on mepron and zith for babs. treatment that provokes some of the most terrible, horrible herxes ever. i was sick. sick. sick. sick. i thought i was dying. i felt like i was dying. i wanted to die.
as i had started my decent into herxing hell, i had sent out a "desperation" email to a support contact i found on the canadian lyme disease foundation website. the response i got had been a saving grace as i plummeted further into the unimaginable, indescribable world of herxing - to know someone else had been thru it, to know that this insanity was "normal", to know that i was not alone, kept me surviving. it meant so much. by the time the email had come, i was so wracked with pain and dealing with psychiatric symptoms of OCD episodes, unrelenting panic attacks that would go on for 3 hours at a time and suicidal ideation. i was hallucinating and my cognitive function would deteriorate. i would lapse into episodes where i had no idea who i was or where i was, then there were the fevers, chills, sweats, the tremors, vomiting, arrythmias, and the pain. always the pain. pain that makes your teeth rattle. the kind of pain so intense, that even just a bed sheet draped over my body, was too much weight and only intensified my pain.
there were many times over those days, where graham tried to convince me to let him take me to the ER. i would have none of it. i was surely beyond help, so i'd rather die in the comfort of my own home.
yes, i was in rather horrendous shape.
but i wanted this person to know that their email had meant so much. in a moment of lucidity, i whispered to graham to pls email them and let them know that i had gotten even worse but thank you so much for their response.
it took a week before i was well enough to manage a few minutes at the computer.
then i saw it, graham's reply
"this is graham. shannon's fingers are too sore to type, but she wanted you to know how much she appreciated your email."
my inability to communicate was chalked up to sore fingers?
you have got to be kidding me? we still laugh at that.
the moral of the story?
sore fingers aren't always what they appear to be.