…And sometimes footballs do, too.
I play football with a group of girls once or twice a week. I’m not great, but its a fun way to get some exercise and meet new people in town.
After a scored goal last night, the goalie kicked the ball toward the middle. It came short, right to me, so I reached down to catch it and throw it toward the middle. Somehow very unfortunately, my left ring finger jammed in between the ball and the ground. It hurt, but I started walking back with the ball and just glanced down at my finger.
As I got into my position, I tried to wiggle my finger, and it didn’t budge. I swapped out with another player, and a doctor that plays with us came to check it out. It seemed like a sprain, so I pushed myself to bend it through the pain. She suggested I ice it and keep it moving.
Oh, but it was.
I now have a plaster cast wrapped with gauze on my hand and arm for two weeks.
In addition to proving that I’m so horrible at football I managed to break a finger, it’s proving to make life a little difficult. This post is taking me twice as long to peck out the letters, and cooking with one hand is a challenge. I haven’t sorted out if I can drive the motorbike yet, but we’re pretty sure I can’t do dishes or laundry without getting the cast wet. Stephen’s to-do list got quite a bit longer in just a few minutes.
The neighbors keep asking if I had a motorbike accident. I might be getting a bad reputation for this, and I’m not really sure why they are still willing to ride with me.
I’m am pretty sure a cast in a hot, sweaty country is going to smell bad really, really fast…
Oh, well. Life keeps coming!