Vocal Point: Thumb injury offers time of enlightenment

At one time or another we all get depressed or melancholy over the state of our lives, the state of the world or even the state of our city streets.

Some things are understandable, while others are trivial. Admit it, we whine. I whine. I complain. It took losing my right thumb to put things in perspective.

I was on the phone with a close friend. We were cheering each other up, laughing almost manically over our problems, and sharing our miseries. I had picked up an Asian glass sound maker that I had found at a garage sale last summer. After my friend and I bid our goodbyes, I set the phone down and proceeded to break through the sound maker with my right thumb, slicing the knuckle.

My first thought was “That was dumb,” and then I cried like a baby. The amount of blood was ridiculous. My husband was in his shop at the time working on one of his many projects. With paper towels wrapped around my thumb, I called him on his cell phone. “Honey, honey, I’ve got an oweeee.” He rushed in prepared for the worst.

He ran cold water over the wound (ouch some more), wrapped it in gauze and secured it with tape. He put ice in a small plastic bag and instructed me to hold it on my thumb for at least 30 minutes. He went back to his man cave, leaving me balancing the icefilled plastic bag on my thumb.

For the next 30 minutes I watched Lifetime Television. Now there are some good examples of real tragedy. My mind wandered. For a fleeting moment my complaints quieted, and I gave thanks for my husband. Later I would give thanks for even more.

Okay, so I didn’t actually lose my thumb, but it’s completely useless for who knows how long (my husband says it will take a while to heal.) I’m left-handed so I thought that it would be no big deal. I was wrong.

Wrapped in thick white gauze, my right thumb is a beacon, leading me to the path of, “oh come on honey, life isn’t that bad.” Simple things are awkward to navigate. I realized how often I actually need my right thumb to complete even the simplest of tasks. It hurts to bend, and the way I have to hold it makes me look like I’m trying to hitch a ride. “Going my way?”

It makes me think of the way I sometimes go when I complain and whine about what I do have, what I don’t have, and blah, blah, blah. I don’t take the time to consider how truly lucky I am. I don’t have it so bad. I am able bodied, I have a home, a family, friends, and I am free to choose whether to complain or be thankful.

I read somewhere that “pain is inevitable, but suffering (whining and complaining) is optional.” Losing the use of my right thumb has enlightened me for now. I am currently grateful for all that I have, and it feels wonderful.

It will last for as long as I have my useless thumb as a reminder. I only hope that, once it heals, I do not begin to take things for granted again. Perhaps, if I begin whining, I will tape my thumb to my finger to once again remind myself that I really don’t have it that bad.