You might not know it, and probably won’t give two sharp shits either, that my most recent post “Sawadee, Ponsonby” was typed with one hand – my left hand. And I’m right-handed. Funnily enough, this one is being composed in exactly the same way.
This is because I sustained an injury to my right pinky.
Yep, have a laugh ya bastard. Go on, get it all out.
Funnily enough, this pinky injury has left me with a cast and 95% immobility of my right hand. Not permanently at all but, whilst my hand/wrist/forearm is fixed in what is known as the “cobra” position, I am finding it extremely difficult to do pretty much anything. Before the barrage of jokes involving my newfound inability to write/type/wank/wave/eat/perform-bathroom-duties properly begins, here’s what happened…
Having spent the previous night ensuring my liver was up to the job of processing unwanted beverage by-products from my system, I was hesitant to venture anywhere further than the comforts of the lounge couch. However, I had planned to confirm the rumour that my cousin had a newly-acquired 46 inch HD TV at approximately the same time as the BOP were due to play Counties, so I thought it best that I follow through with said plans. So I did.
Things started off poorly as the mighty BOP battled into a fierce wind and Counties sustained great ball retention to be 14-0 up as half time loomed. All of a sudden BOP got some momentum going and strung some phases together. Captain Colin Bourke seemed to have made a wrong choice by not kicking for goal before Mr Lelia Masaga took a quick tap, jigged left, jagged right and crossed the try line seconds before the half time whistle sounded.
As you can imagine this was all quite exciting, culminating in a huge double fist pump from myself. Unbeknownst to me, my cousins light shade hung precariously close to any such celebratory rituals and my right fist managed to collect a corner of the frosted-glass light shade.
My first reaction was “shit, sorry cuz!” – as pieces of the formerly-intact light shade were spread around the lounge. Then I looked at my hand and noticed I could see the bone of my right hand pinky through a rather deep, exposed cut. It all looked quite cool, but a little bit gross. My cousin, after much rummaging about, managed to find the world’s smallest band aid to help smear the large amount of dark crimson blood that had accumulated and we were off to A&E.
Turns out I was lucky not to completely severe a tendon but still needed stitches to both tendon & wound, have it bandaged and held in the “cobra” position by a cast for a whole week. Dumb.
But at least the BOP ended up winning. Check it here.