52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy – Illness and Injury

Or How My Career as a Hand Model Ended
After my mother passed away in the Spring of 1990, my family struggled with our new roles in our new lives. Caregiver had not been assigned. I was the first to understand that this much needed role had been overlooked.
My younger brother and I were home alone. We were arguing about something and I got so mad that I tried to punch him with my right hand. I missed. Towering over me he laughed and hurled another insult at me. To catch him off guard, I punched him with my left hand. This time, I connected. It was a hard punch to the sternum. So why was I the one writhing on the floor in pain? Apparently, I didn’t know how to curl a fist and you shouldn’t punch someone in the sternum who is wearing football pads.
The pain that was shooting through my hand was unbearable. I sat there crying and screaming. My brother didn’t know what to do. We called my dad at work. His response was that he was at work and he would take care of it when he got home and that we shouldn’t be fighting anyway. My brother pulled out the big medical book that was on the shelf. We iced my hand and waited.
My father took me to the hospital at about midnight. He worked the 3pm to 11pm shift. They told me that my pinkie finger was broken and basically there was nothing that could be done. I had a little metal splint put on. To this day, the tip of my pinkie on my left hand points downward.
I always tell my brother that if he ever makes any money, I will sue him for ending my possible career as a hand model. I tell my dad that was so not the way mom would have handled the situation.
My bent little finger is my reminder that people love differently not less…just differently.