A Weight Watchers habits evaluation years ago concluded I need to ask for help more. It's true. Aside from whining to friends about this or that, other than asking dad many years ago to drive me to the ER or staying at his place during bug treatment, I haven't asked for help.
I've been alone with my current medical plight. Apparently I'm a susceptible candidate, and attempting to install my own deadbolt lock in July pushed me over a line. Not just pain but limited function of my left thumb and it's getting worse.
It took 3 weeks to see a hand surgeon, 6 since it all began. The X-rays looked picture perfect. "Flexorpollicis longus tendonitis" he calls it, something which would require a 15 minute procedure to prevent an inflamed tendon from getting further aggravated.
But not today. He'd have to set up something at some surgical facility off Union Square. In a week or so. It's Labor Day in "or so." And I should have someone "take me home," which is really not possible in Manhattan. Dad doesn't do Manhattan.
In 3 weeks my regular hand surgeon's appointment is up. He has surgical facilities on the premises. I should explain the "regular" bit: In 2003 on the spot he operated on my other hand to remove a ganglion cyst from my right thumb. This was 11 years to the month after he took one off the base of my left middle (bird?) finger.
Do I regret not paying through the nose for the locksmith in the first place? This wasn't anticipated. Maybe I should have asked my neighbor for help...
Someone made a custom splint which doesn't let my thumb bend, and it makes a difference. I should wear this while I sleep, the doctor said.
I have a ride for Nassau County. There's a 99% chance I'll go with the doctor I know, with dad driving me.
Before then it's 1-1/2 hands typing. You'll see even less capitals as the weeks pass. I'll see less mobility and more pain. The way the weather is going right now isn't helping.