I successfully smashed my finger at the gym today. I wrapped it up with athletic tape and kept going, but it hurt and it wouldn’t stop bleeding. I figured I could find a convenience care facility attached to a local ER and at least get it looked at. Best outcome would be if if they just told me I was a big wimp and sent me home. Much worse would have been if I had looked at it myself and it was bad enough that it made me queasy or pass out. I really wasn’t up to poking and prodding my own injury. That’s why I have a job and insurance, right?

I went to Good Samaritan, my neighborhood ER, but they just gave me attitude about how busy they were. The woman at the front counter told me she’d call Emanuel (where I used to volunteer 17 years ago) to see how busy they were, but instead she just asked how late the “fast track” was open. She told me there was an hour-and-a-half wait at Good Samaritan but Good Samaritan was the fastest ER in the area. She wanted me to just go to Emanuel or call them but my fingers were all taped up and I didn’t want to try dialing my cell phone. Off I went.

Anyway, the “fast track” at Emanuel was pretty fast, and I was out of there in an hour. They poked at my fingers (which still hurt), took some X-rays, called me a wimp (not really), and sent me on my way with this weird sock-like thing on my pinky. I won’t describe the tip of my pinky fully, but it’s pretty mashed. I guess they want me to put Neosporin on it and come back if it gets worse.

That’s not really the kind of excitement I was looking for, but just the kind I get. I hope I didn’t get H1N1 in the waiting area.

So now I’m home and am about to use my new Sonicare toothbrush that Amazon delivered, and of course the heads I have already don’t fit the new handle. Sheesh.