The night before my pinkie amputation,
we had a goodbye pinkie party in Lindsay's kitchen.
We drank sparkling apple juice in fancy glasses,
listened to music about goodbyes,
and we shared good memories about my amazing finger.
It was a great way to bid adieu to a courageous member of my body,
she had served her purpose, and it was ok to say goodbye.
Last Sunday, a few days after the surgery,
Mr. Nielson changed the bandage on my left hand while I tearfully looked on.
With the Little Nies around me on the bed, we all braced for change.
Mr. Nielson didn't take down the whole dressing
but unraveled enough for us to see the dramatic difference in my hand.
We all quietly shed a few tears (especially me), and Oliver tearfully
rubbed my back and periodically kissed my cheek
to tell me he loved me no matter what.
Early this morning, Mr. Nielson and I drove
back to the Mayo Clinic, where Dr. L took down the bandages and
inspected the wound site.
All the bandages came off this time, and the site was cleaned (ouch!).
With dried blood and thick blue stitches holding the skin together,
it was tough to look at,
and all I could think about was that my hand resembled the hand of a
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.
I hope at some point I feel comfortable letting my hand free
without having to feel like I have to cover it up to
feel accepted around other people.
I suspect I will get there just like my face, legs, and arms.
These things do take time, and I am allowing myself that.
Lucy sent me photos of her favorite cartoon characters who only have 4 fingers
which, to be honest, perked me right up (Minnie Mouse).
Jane told me about a few "missing finger" clubs.
(I should join).
Also, Spencer brought home a 600-gallon carton of my favorite
bubble gum ice cream, and so tonight, somehow...I feel better.
(Pinkie post here)