Because why wouldn’t you want to weigh in on an event that happened five years ago

24 May

I still argue with husband from time to time about the time I broke my thumb.

You did not break your thumb.

I’m pretty sure I broke my thumb, babe.

If you had broken your thumb, you would have known and you would have had to go to the hospital.

Honey, just because I didn’t go to the hospital doesn’t mean it wasn’t broken.

I think it does.

And so on. It was senior year of college. I was on my way to work at the Pizza Pizza chain that is near and dear to my heart. I lived upstairs in a townhouse with three other girls, and I was running down the stairs to my shoes. I was already wearing socks, and our stairs were carpeted. Somehow, my legs flew out from under me. For a brief, terrifying moment in time I was in the air, not attached to the earth in any way.

Then I came back down. Not on my legs, not on my ass or head or a back, but on my thumb on my right hand. Then the rest of my crashed down on top. It was an insane amount of pain. I began wailing instantly. No one else was home though, and Husband (then Boyfriend) was at class. I had no one to run the injury by. It was already starting to swell, becoming angry and red.

Growing up, whenever I or one of my cousins hurt themselves, we would always be asked “Can you move it?” If the answer was yes, then it clearly wasn’t broken. So I employed this technique. I slowly made a fist, released it. I could move it – but I was in a blinding amount of pain when I did. Did pain matter? I wasn’t sure. So I went to work.

By the time I had gotten to work, my hand was stiff and I still had tears in my eyes. It was the opening shift, so I had to make the day’s dough. Which meant cutting and kneading and rolling into a ball. Over a hundred times. I started, tried my best, but began crying. Which usually scares men over the age of 40, which is what my boss was. I washed the flour off my hands, and my right hand was a wickedly dark shade of purple. I relayed the story to my manager, and I was instructed to go straight to the hospital for x-rays.

Still, I wasn’t sure, so I went home, iced it, and took a nap. Later that day when all my roommates came home, it was unanimous I should have gone to the hospital. I still didn’t go. I was a broke college student with no insurance coverage, I decided I couldn’t afford anything frivolous like health care. Husband agreed, wrapped it up in an ace bandage, and I went about healing.

Except it didn’t really appear to  heal properly, and definitely doesn’t move in the same way as the other one. I feel like a sprain would have gone back to being normal, so I’ve concluded over the years that I broke the thumb. Husband still doesn’t agree

Exhibit A – Normal thumb range of motion.


Exhibit B – Poor, likely broken and healed improperly thumb range of motion. I can’t bend it back farther than this.


So what do you think internet? Broken thumb, yes or no?


2 Responses to “Because why wouldn’t you want to weigh in on an event that happened five years ago”

  1. The Waiting May 24, 2012 at 1:24 pm #

    I say broken. Does it click too when you try to move it?

    • Cally May 24, 2012 at 8:34 pm #

      No, no clicking. Does that change your answer? Does clicking mean broken?

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