How the Beast Managed To Break My Finger

The evil-doer looking cute and innocent.
© shoutingforha

Our beast-of-a-dog, Brick, is a Mama's boy.  He loves to sit at my feet and follow me around the house.  It's really quite sweet.  Except for when he decides to stand on my feet, which, to be honest, is all the time. 

On a near weekly basis I joke with the hubby,  "One day the goofy dog is going to break my foot or one of my toes."  It only seemed logical since the animal weighs a ton and seems to feels an insatiable desire to be under my feet at all times.  Never, in my wildest dreams, did I ever expect him to break my finger.  

Here's what happened...

Around midnight on Thursday, I stepped out back to bring Brick inside for the night.  He loves laying in the yard when it's cool and dark.  As he galloped for the door, racing as close to me as possible, my right pinky finger somehow managed to catch in his collar.  What are the odds?!

It all happened in a split second, and had anyone been watching, they would have never detected that anything was wrong.  Well, until I shouted that naughty word at the top of my lungs.  I just couldn't help it.

The hubby was obviously puzzled by my outburst.  As I walked in the back door, I told him, "I'm pretty sure our stupid dog just broke my finger."

The pain was strikingly similar to the one I felt when I decided to punt a large piece of furniture with my toe.  After a brief examination, I decided to buddy tape my pinky to my ring finger, slap some ice on it and head to bed.  What else was I to do?  My finger wasn't veering off in an alarming direction and I was in no mood to make a midnight visit to the ER.

After I got the boy off to school on Friday morning, I decided to go to the Vanderbilt Walk-In Clinic for a quick x-ray.  I was still in pain and my finger was swollen and sporting a lovely purple bruise.  The doctor confirmed my suspicion.  The beast had broken my finger, but it wasn't just any break.  I was diagnosed with a spiral fracture smack-dab between my two knuckles.  

Over-achieving mutt. 

© shoutingforha

The doctor gave me a splint (Sorry for the quality.  I was shooting lefty style.) and then urged me to go see an Orthopedist at the Bone and Joint Clinic.  That's exactly what I did yesterday.  Sadly, hunky Dr. W. wasn't available, so I had to see the equally qualified but notably less attractive Dr. B..

To my relief, Dr. B. said that everything was nicely aligned and my finger required no additional treatment.  I have been instructed to continue wearing the splint for the next 4-6 weeks.  Lucky me.

Several people have asked me if I think Brick is aware of the fact that he maimed his Mama.  My answer is a resounding no.  That said, the gentle giant refused to go outside for almost 20 hours after the incident, most likely the result of my potty-mouthed outburst.  I actually had to drag him out into the yard and assure him that everything was alright.  The big baby.

I must admit that I enjoy the puzzled looks on people's faces when I tell them how I broke my finger.  At least I've got a good story to tell, albeit a crazy one.