Thumbs Down

Somewhere between the time of my last post and this exact moment, I managed to dissect my left thumb with all the surgical grace of a sixth-grade biology student. And while I now see with crystal clarity that using a butcher knife to open an iPod charger borders on an act social Darwinism, all I can say is that it seemed like a good idea in the dead of that fateful, blood-soaked night. The snapshot above is from the evening in question, taken after 45 minutes of clenching a remarkably absorbent Brawny towel to my hand in a hospital waiting room, and 5 minutes before passing out due to blood loss.

Several stitches (and weeks) later, there is some good news – I can now type with minimal agony, and the top of my thumb seems to be completely impervious to any sensation whatsoever. “Why,” you may ask, “is that good news?” Well, I figure it’s the closest I’ve ever come to having a superpower. Granted, I haven’t yet – yet – figured out how to spin my injury into a lucrative career in vigilanteism, but I figure it’s only a matter of time before my pain-free digit is taking bullets in the name of freedom. I could use my blessed (cursed?) digit to hitchhike across the country in search of injustice, ready at a moment’s notice to reveal the “Thumbs Up” logo branded across my shirt.

Or maybe I could just go into physical therapy.

Either way, I’m gettin’ me a snappy outfit.