How it happened isn't very interesting, but I'm going to tell you anyways:
I was hiking, and there was this one spot where I kept slipping (I know normally nothing "keeps happening" at one spot on a hike, because normally you pass a spot, at most, twice - once on the way up, and once on the way down, but we were camping at a lake and walked around the lake several times.) Finally, the spot beat me and I fell right on my butt, jamming my finger right into a rock on the way down.
It hurt, but since I could bend my finger I assumed that meant it wasn't broken. Whatever. It would be fine.
Surprise, surprise, I was wrong! It was fractured! I went on to spend two weeks with my fingers buddy taped and two weeks with a plastic splint.
Here are some fun facts I learned along the way:
1) We still think of writing as a one-handed activity. Most people would say something like, "well, thank goodness it's not your right hand," to which I'd say, "sure, except I type with both hands and work an office job where I basically type all day, sooooo...... still sucks."
2) As a woman, apparently I can't show people my left hand EVER without them thinking I'm showing them a ring. It doesn't matter if there's a giant splint on it or not, if I lift up my left hand, their faces brighten up with this "oooooh, she got engaged!" look. It was both sad and satisfying to disappoint them with my stupid broken finger.
3) You will never know freedom until you know typing WITHOUT a finger splint. It's so fast! So easy!
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