So my husband has been breaking bones for about 10 years now. Lots. Especially in one hand/wrist/elbow area. He recently broke his 3rd metacarpal (I think) on his pinky (which is essential the hand part of your pinky). This break is, in the radiology industry, known as a boxers break and although to me the xray appears as though it really should be a compound fracture, I guess that it might just heal up fine. Our neighbor is a radiologist and he confirmed this. The PA (medical speak for physicians assistant) at Alta Bates Hospital recommended that Nick go to Highland Hospital (the county hospital for uninsured - which is what we currently are) to get a 2nd opinion from a hand surgeon. Nick did not do this.
but
By week 3 the shit wasn't looking so good - this weird bump about an inch back from his knuckle (which no longer existed - his knuckle that is) wasn't going anywhere. So, he went and picked up the xrays and our neighbor checked it out in our living room. He said to keep the cast on for 10 weeks and it'd be fine. The PA said 6 weeks but whatever. Ok, all is well, right? No. Now Nick has decided at week 6 that he should start walking around with just the ace bandage and no splint (the other day he used a comb for a splint).
Here is the clincher: Tonight he is telling me how much prettier I am than someone I said had better legs than I did while complaining about how fat I felt and he comes in for a random hug/pat/bottom squeeze/reassurance kind of dealio and what do I do? I (he says) turn my head and look away while punching him in the 3rd metacarpal. I thought I just raised my arm to receive his sweet embrace. Either way he retreated in a cloud of 'fucks' and thinks I re-broke it. Maybe. And it sounded like he blamed me. 100 % - for sure.
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