When I was 5 years old, my brother slammed my hand in the car door.  To this day the jury is out on whether it was intentional or not – but the damage was done.

I was in Grade 1, just learning to print.  After I got back from the hospital (where they fixed me up with a splint for the last two fingers on my right hand) I tried, with very little success, to print the small “e” many times on my writing tablet.  I blame this traumatic experience for my poor penmanship to this day.

This morning I drove back in from the lake to drop off the kennel for the dog at my house.  OK, the dog actually belongs to my fiancée, but for all intents and purposes it’s ours now and it was the practical thing to do.

I pull up in front of my house about 2:45 am – not wanting to wake the neighbours, instead of slamming the driver’s side door closed, I opt to gently shut it… while my thumb is still in the door.

Crap, bad move.  I can’t even curse because it might make too much noise. There I am, standing in the street, with my thumb pinned in the door, fishing for the keys so I can unlock the thing and get my digit out.

It’s damaged.  Bent.  Blackening and bruising already.  And that’s just what I can see in the glow of the streetlight.

I don’t know if I broke it (would it matter – here’s a splint take some Advil) or just banged it up.  But I can tell you this time it hurts more.  I don’t have anyone else to blame.

Not picking anything up with my right hand…  Dave