Broken Hands Club

So, I’ve got a little bump on my finger that popped up out of nowhere. It’s been there for a little while now, so I had it checked and turns out it’s a little bump that needs to come out. No big deal, just an out-patient procedure, will take about an hour and then I’ll be good to go.

That doesn’t sound too dire, does it? That’s because you’re not my Mom. Let me tell you how it sounded to her: “I have a tumor on my hand! I have to have surgery! I am moments from death!”

Then she turned to Google. Very, very bad idea. I figured it was better to have her come up for my procedure than have her be 800 miles away, worrying about what was going on. Besides, it would be very helpful to have her here to take me to the doctor so that Sean wouldn’t have to take time off from work, and really, who's better at taking care of a sick person than the mom? Plus, the girls would love to see her. I didn’t count on me seeing much, since I’m hoping to go home with lots of pain meds and an order to go to sleep.

(Is it wrong that I’m really looking forward to having an excuse to take a nap? The thought of the nap almost makes up for the fact that I can’t eat or drink anything (including Diet Coke!) for 13 hours. Almost.)

Well, my procedure day is today. Mom is here. And so is Dad. Because it turns out that Mom, my helper, driver and caretaker, broke her arm last week. Yep; Mom’s in a cast. In case you’re counting, that makes two family members with broken right arms – Rebecca’s cast is red and Mom’s is Tar Heel blue. And in just a few hours, my hand will be all bandaged up, too, so I’ll join their injured hand club. Three generations with wounded right arms. What a group. I’m really looking forward to snapping a portrait of all of us with our messed up hands. Should be a treasure.

Will add my hand to the picture tomorrow.

And all just in time for Amy’s 17^th birthday on Thursday. Guess she’ll have to bake her own cake. Because my money's on the fact that she won't want one made by a one-armed, drugged up mommy. Of course, it can't look worse than this:

That feels like a challenge...