The Finger
Posted By Phil on July 28, 2006
Welcome to this, the third entry of my summer hiatus. It is 100% true, and it happened to me about a week ago. Part of why I couldn’t type this sooner lies in something resulting from this incident, which you’ll soon see. Should you feel the urge to laugh, grin, or show any indication that what you read is in any way entertaining, then now might be a time for a little self-reflection. Only I am allowed to laugh. Now, no more sense in beating around the bush. Here goes:
Despite my 22 years spent on this earth, I am full of signs and indications that I’m still just a really big kid. Unlike others my age, I do not need to be entertained, but rather find entertainment. While I’m a fan of technology (e.g. computers, stereos, television, and battery-operated hands-free can openers), I’m also easily amused. I won’t expound any further.
So when I went to a lake and visited a public beach, it was only natural that the swing sets there should attract me like a moth to a fluorescent bug zapper. I have always loved swings. Something about that seat suspended by two chains, regardless of whether or not you burn your butt from it because it’s been roasting all day in the hot sun, is simply irresistable to yours truly. I love just sitting there, letting it rock as I sit down, and then starting to swing my legs.
Every second is sheer pleasure as the ground becomes blurry because I’m moving too fast to actually see it clearly. And the higher I go, the more I feel I’m breaking free of the thoughts and feelings that are otherwise ever-present. In seconds, the only thing that matters is that I’m defying gravity, and every time it tries to pull me back, I defy it again. That simple back and forth movement is so liberating. All thoughts fade away and the only thing that matters is that you feel. You feel alive, happy, excited, free.
And so it was that I climbed onto the swing, and I set myself free. I climbed higher and higher into the air, forgetting the ground beneath me. Before long, I was as high as could be, and felt like nothing could spoil my fun.
Unfortunately for me, the feeling ended up being nothing close to reality. The swing, clearly out to get me (refer to above poorly written analogy involving a moth), chose that precise moment to give out on me. One second I’m flying free, then suddenly I’m moving backward, falling (and thinking it a normal part of the ride), when I hear a loud thud and I’m suddenly motionless.
I’d say there was a sound, like a CRACK!, but I don’t remember hearing one. I only remember moving backward, and then not moving at all. I open my eyes, after apparently having closed them upon my fall, and let the scene come into focus. The sound of laughter meets my ears, and I turn my head to see my friend in tears, laughing at the spectacle. And I begin to laugh, finally realizing what had just happened.
Slowly, I rise to a sitting position, and then use the dangling chain to pull myself up to my feet. As I brush myself off, I pull down my shirt over my back, it having been pulled up due to the few feet I skidded upon impact. As I stare at the chain, I notice the swing still attached at the end. And I look to the other end, only to discover that it is no longer intact, having lost its screws and being torn apart. Despite my love of swings, only one thought enters my head: serves it right. Bum swing.
I then inspect myself for signs of injury, including scrapes, cuts, blood, broken bones, and bruised ego. I find nothing, save for some blood oozing from my middle finger on my left hand.
Feeling relieved that I’d escaped injury, having not even hit my head in the fall (whew), I desert the swings and head for the bathrooms. Once there, I go straight for the sink and start running cold water (no option on that one, it’s the only spiget in the place). Water pours over my finger, soothing it. I put soap on my hand and scrub lightly, cleaning out all the dirt and grime so as to save myself from an infection.
As I scrub, a man walks into the bathroom and goes to the urinal. He looks at me, watching some of the blood wash away from the water, and strikes up conversation:
Man: Oh, hurt yourself, huh?
Me: Yep.
Man: What happened?
Me: I was having a little too much fun on the swings.
Man: Oh really. Well, you know, there is a minimum age on those things.
Me: What is it, three?
Man: [no response]
The man walks away (without washing his hands, mind you), clearly baffled by my last remark, no doubt thinking I’m an idiot with an IQ lower than his own. I don’t take kindly to his belittling tone, and his attempt at sarcasm that hit well below the mark.
I leave the bathroom, my finger less bloody but still causing excruciating pain. Whoever imagined that fingers have so many nerved? I head to the ice chest, and borrow some ice to put on it.
As the day wears on, my finger grows exponentially more purple. Eventually, someone guesses that I’ve broken it, and so the search ensues for some tape to keep me from moving it. The tape seems to help, less because it has healing properties, more because it kept me from moving it and thus making the pain worse.
The next day, I go to a nurse, who encourages me to keep icing it (which I’ve been doing continuously) and also fits me with a fancy little splint. That lasts for one day, and the next day I go to the emergency room to get x-rays.
After a lovely 2 hour stay for the x-rays, it’s established that no bones are broken. Lucky me. It’s also established that I’ve torn the ligaments in my finger quite a bit (this is referred to as a “sprain”). Not so lucky me.
I’m fitted with a new splint, one that keeps my finger completely straight. It’s wrapped with gauze to secure it in place. The resulting appearance is that, even without forming the other four fingers into a fist, I’m perptually flipping the bird. So, while inconvenient and sometimes annoying, the splint has also been the source of a fair amount of entertainment.
Given the circumstances and the amount of run-around I’ve had to suffer from this ordeal (not to mention the pain I’ve suffered as well), I feel that I might as well make the most of it. And given that I’ve had to endure much unwanted attention and countless people staring at my finger and asking “what happened?”, I feel I have every right to be “angry” at the world, and give it the finger.
Remember, I’m not laughing. I’m angry.
You poor thing! Why am I laughing and cringing all at the same time? Can you sue? ahahahhaha
ummm I’m laughing… sorry…
AND HEY! I’m a swinger too!!!
umm… wait… yeah…uh…. nevermind.
So…what happened?
I did not laugh one bit…….not even a giggle
lmao!
uh somebody behind me said something funny…sorry
Well, my “swing out sister”, sounds like a little too much of a good thing gone very bad.
Recover fast!
Thank goodness it was ONLY your finger! I thought for sure you were going to say you broke your tailbone! And yeah, I’m a “swinger” too! :) Love your description Phil…you rock even if your flippin everyone off! :)
Another purple finger episode. You can start a collection soon.
Glad you didn’t hit your head, that fall could’ve been a lot worse. (there I go being the protective father)
That’s amazing! Exactly the same thing happened to me… of course, I was five at the time…
Ouch! I know how badly finger injuries can hurt! You know it’s bad when you can feel your heartbeat in your injured digit! And it’s so hard to keep it above your heart, isn’t it?
No more swinging for you!!!
You, my friend, have just nominated yourself for the Purple Claw. Given to those injured in the line of having fun, vacation, or drunkenness. It’s a high honor…LOL. Something to show the grandkids someday =)
I love the swings too. Can’t walk past without giving it a go, but this story somehow frightens me. You heard NO noise before hitting the ground? hummm…perhaps I need to stay away from the swings.
BTW…I never once *cough* laughed at you.
Lynn: I didn’t hear any noise, but that doesn’t mean there was none. I think the others heard something, maybe.
i love swings. but a little take on that story… went dancing with missy in june and we were with a doctor friend of ours. dj put on some squirrel nut zipper and the doctor and i went out onto the dance floor and started swing dance. i asked, very innocently, ‘do you swing?’
oi.
Okay you be angry as i am laughing at ur expense in the future could u also tell ur friend to take pictures as that one would have been worth a 1000 words……HUGS sorry bout the finger
Well, it seems the appropriate answer to “what happened” is to raise the hand and show the finger. :)
You know, there is a MAXIMUM age on those things. *smirk*
I am not going to lie to you my friend, I laughed myself into a sidecramp at this story. I am really glad you didn’t hurt anything more than a finger, and I hope your finger heals quickly, but until then use that finger every chance you get, you have the perfect excuse to do so. Laters….
There’s no picture on this blog entry. There really needs to be a picture.
(Psssst! Pull my finger. No, NOT that one!)
Geek: I agree. I lack the digital camera, but have a picture I’ll post later once it’s developed and I can scan it.
Your Story made Me Dizzy! WOW!!!
Oh, and uh (hmph hmph…) I did not laugh at all!
It’s Karma Dude…The Rabbit Society spies have been waiting for just such a moment to get back at you for killing their bunny friend. So they sabatoged the swing.
That’s the story you need to tell:)
< ---doing my absolute best to refrain from laughing.....'cuz I just MAY be somewhat afraid of The Phil......but damnit.....LMAO!
I didn’t laugh until the part where your friend started laughing though – does that count?
there goes your career in the professional swing leage (PSL).
I like the swings too…But I am 53.. So maybe I will give it up…Things tend to take longer to heal now and I don’t want to tempt fate. Take care!
sounds like that swing had it coming.
Yeowch, Phil! I’m so sorry to hear of your travails.
If I did laugh–and I’m not saying I did–it’s due to your presentation of the tale, darn it.
To console you, a poem:
How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside -
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown -
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!
(Robert Louis Stevenson)
i didnt laugh, too much. i, too am a swinger. i enjoy being on that millisecond high. i hope your finger heals completly and soon.
I need a splint for my middle finger…it’s in that position quite often already might as well stay up for a while!! :) take care!!
I didn’t laugh at all. Guess I should stay away from the swings since I’m old.
**dashing from Phil’s with side splitting**
Thats too great. Makes my breaking the hammock while leasurly enjoying a summer day seem small….
Hmmm….can think of it this way…you may have saved some oversized child(or over zealous adult) from the same fate…you were the sacrificial rabbit, oops, I mean lamb! LOL!
Well I am laughing even if you aren’t…be mad at the world but its still funny.
lol gravity gets us all in the end glad to see you survived
LOL…sorry….lol….sorry….the nerve of that guy! Not washing his hands. That is just plain yukky. I am a swing lover too.
I too am a swing lover and because of a swing was caught on my mother’s broken tailbone when I was born. She did not know it was broken because when it happened, she chose not to tell anyone and it was not evident. I was a very blue little boy when I finally made it into the world. At least your injury was something you could fix almost right away, you did not have to wait for childbirth for the injury to rear its ugly head. Hope you are feeling better. Sounds like an eventful summer.