. . . we had bought the IKEA sofa cover?

As I mentioned over here, we didn’t buy it in the end because it looked too big to fit into the washing machine. And so we decided to use the same cotton throw we’d had on the old sofa, which was no problem as it looked fine and did the same job. But then we had to get that quilted waterproof mattress cover as well (what if there had never been any ‘pee wars’?) which now means that the cotton throw doesn’t tuck into the overlap where the top bit of the mattress folds over onto the bottom bit (see photo). This means that it needs ‘smoothing down’ and arranging after someone has been sitting on it. And Sunday evening was no exception after Nog had been sitting on it for ages with his laptop …

Well, except that I was in a hurry as dinner was almost ready and forgot about the ‘no longer tucks in’ thing, so when I gave the cover a shove with my fingertips to tuck it under the overlap the middle finger on my left hand went aaaaaaarrgh!!! I thought for a moment that I’d broken it because the last joint was just kind of hanging there and I couldn’t get it to move on its own. Still, other than hurting like fuck, I decided it was probably just badly sprained and bruised and would feel better in the morning.

Nope. Woke up yesterday morning to the same whole-load-o’-pain thing happening, which made going to yoga class a bit more challenging than usual. Later on I decided to get my hair cut (big time success story there – more on that elsewhere) and then I thought it might be a good idea to stop by my doctor-friend Agustín’s office, thinking he’d tape the thing up for me and that would be that. Instead he told me to get down to hospital emergency immediately for an x-ray!

Three hours later (most of which spent in various waiting rooms with various other ‘impatients’ like myself) I’d been in to see the doctor, had my beautiful ‘moebius strip’ silver ring cut off f_wah.gif (my finger was way too swollen to pull it off), been x-rayed and then back to see the doc again, who told me that there were no broken bones. Which it turned out wasn’t good news. Because it turned out that my tendon was severed at the first knuckle joint.

So then I had to wait more than 2 hours to see the plastic surgeon, who scheduled emergency surgery for that evening, saying that even after 24 hours it might not be possible to reattach the tendon (eep!).

Having yet more time to kill I thought I should get a snack of something as I realised I hadn’t eaten anything since a bit of plain yoghurt & coffee about 10 o’clock. So I popped over to a nearby little montadito bar for a little montadito (what else?). Oh, and also 2 glasses of very nice and much needed Montecillo rioja.

Finally, at about 9.30pm (I’d first gone to emergency at 1.30) I had the op done, which took about an hour. Local anaesthetic. The tendon was stitched back together and a pin was also stuck in to keep the joint straight while it heals. And then the semi-cast and huge bandage! I had actually thought that just the finger would be somehow immobilised and I’d be able to go about my business more or less the same as usual, but apparently I’ve got to wear this fucker for about two weeks! And keep it elevated above my heart at all times, even while sleeping. The net sling is actually quite a good idea as it’s stretchy and easier on the neck.

And that’s basically the story. Oh, gory details iclude the surgeon insisting I ‘have a look’ a couple of times during the op. So now I know what my finger tendons and knuckle bones look like – which is something I think I would have been quite happy living without.

But in an attempt to be somewhat philosophical about all this, it has reminded me how things in our lives can change in a split second and so we should remember to carpe diem as much as possible. Though for the immediate future it looks as though I’ll be spending my diems trying to figure out how to do things one-handed. And all the extra stuff around the house that Nog is going to have to do on his own should remind him to always straighten sofa cover when he gets off it.