bound by the surprise

I won't show you a picture, but I smushed my finger yesterday. I smushed it real good. It was all my fault and it really hurts. Luckily I only 'pick' type and use 6/10 digits regularly. I'll make this work. Showering and doing dishes, however, has proven to be interesting. I am very lucky that my current roommate is a nurse. She bandaged up my poor little finger in a nice chef-looking hat. Very chic, very practical. Except when I am trying to shower/do dishes.

It is with great irony I have damaged one of my hands, as I was just dreaming of starting a family band. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE THE CHILL GIRL BASSIST WHEN I DO NOT CURRENTLY RETAIN USE OF MY LEFT MIDDLE FINGER? Dreams crushed. Harsh. Maybe I will be the 'rhythm egg-shaker/poor back-up vocalist.' I could probably wear cuter outfits and not have to worry about them being hidden/clashing with my bass. Optimism. Yeah.

While I was being 'treated' by the 'doctor' at the 'walk-in clinic', he asked me if I thought I had broken it. I DON'T KNOW, BUDDY, YOU TELL ME. I felt very safe in his hands as he burnt through my nail with a heated up paper-clip in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure. (He burnt through my nail alright - all the way down to my finger. Good. Very good.)
I have come to terms with the fact I am very likely to lose my nail. Most unfortunate, as my left hand is was my pretty hand. Now it is my zombie hand. Swollen, bloody, pus-filled, black and yellow zombie hand. Not pretty. Zombies are in now, right? Totally. Optimism. Yeah.