My hand is on fire.
At 3 in the morning, I'm in so much pain, I can't sleep. Apparently tendons and a bundle of nerves, running the length of my right hand from the wrist to the middle and ring fingers, would like to kill me.
I've taken naproxen, acetaminophen, and ibuprofen. Maybe I can kill my hand.
Yesterday I whacked down and chopped up two shrubs. Seems like a modest amount of work. But those fingers on my right hand have been acting wonky for a week, since I stabbed myself there with a rose thorn.
Slow Death by Rose Thorn.
It's surprising how loudly pain screams in the brain. I'm remembering what I mentioned in my post the other day, about pain receptors and the fact that hands are the most sensitive parts of the body.
I wear my grandmother's wedding band on my right hand. I've worn it for 27 years. I can't budge it over my knuckle, and now, when it's impossible, I'm obsessed with removing it. Can I call the fire department?
In The Cold of This Here Morning
1 day ago