Front Porch: Managing frozen middle digit for the birds

This is about my wounded finger.

As fate would have it, it happens to be the middle finger on my left hand. A mishap last fall caused an avulsion fracture, the result being a swollen finger that pretty much froze in a curved upright position no matter what the other fingers on the same hand might be doing.

I did mention it was my middle finger, right?

I could be sitting calmly enjoying lunch with a friend, hands resting on the table … and there it stood. Up. Or clasping my left hand over my right in a resting pose under my chin, and – again – there it was.

I have heard just about every extended-finger joke possible from my nonsympathetic friends. They seem to be having a good time with it. I haven’t been. Everything has been about the finger. Try to open a car door with an extended middle finger. Or work on a keyboard. Or button a blouse. Or grip a heavy pan.

While I write with my right hand, my left hand is my stronger and dominant hand for all other functions, now making all kinds of normal activities not even remotely normal or even easy.

After several weeks of just dealing with it, hoping it will take care of itself, I came to realize I might need help in getting it back to some kind of working shape again. An X-ray, followed by a consult with a hand surgeon, has led me to occupational therapy. I wear a sleeve on the finger by day and a stiff straightening brace at night, and I also do additional finger exercises while I’m just sitting around.

When I mention to friends that I’m going for finger therapy, I sometimes get quizzical looks. But, please, let me tell you that if any of you have issues with your hands or arms, do consider occupational therapy. It is really a gift from the gods. Or medical science.

This is not my first time with OT. In 1991, when I was recovering from a stroke, I was taught how to accomplish many daily tasks without the use of my right arm. (I finally got my right arm back, but it took time.) Did you know you could put on a bra using just one arm, while the other arm just hangs there uselessly? It took me 15 minutes and more perspiration than I knew I could produce, but I did it! I learned how to peel an apple one-handed and how to adapt to do any number of daily-living actions we otherwise take for granted.

If you know someone who is an occupational therapist, if appropriate, go over and kiss them on the forehead and thank them for what they do. They can help bring your functioning back to normal or as darn close-to-normal as your injury allows.

My own formal finger therapy will be coming to an end in a few weeks, but the changes have been remarkable. I can just about bend my finger so that it touches my palm again, giving me the ability to main control over a small object in a clasped hand. I can hold a grocery bag by the handles without pain. I can clutch a steering wheel without looking like I’m giving an insulting gesture to anyone who might be looking into my car while I’m driving. And I can reach for something without smacking that stupid protruding digit into a cupboard door, countertop, dashboard, desk drawer or any hard object that seems determined to reach out and hurt it once again.

There’s still a good bit of swelling in the finger, but much less than before. I’m told it takes six to nine months from the time of injury for the swelling to go down, so I’m hopeful that with continued home therapy – exercises with rubber bands and therapeutic putty – there might still be progress to be attained. There is some arthritis in my finger, so it won’t be perfect. I am a woman of a certain age, after all. But it will be good again.

And at this point in my life, I think good is actually just great.