Earlier this summer I broke my thumb. To be more specific, a whistling softball tailing in towards me at first base broke my thumb. Wow did that hurt, but honestly there are worse pains in the world and after that first night when it felt like tiny shards of glass being hammered into my finger joint, it didn't actually hurt. What was more remarkable was the color. I have never had such a ghoulish or long-lasting bruise on my body, and was unaware that skin could actually turn those vivid shades of grey, blue, purple.
But you know, I didn't actually need to wear the brace for very long. Three weeks, to be exact. And two days before my three week appointment, after being instructed at all costs NOT to bend my finger, I started feeling this visceral urge to bend my finger. The finger was SCREAMING to be bent. I needed to bend that finger, like there was an itch deep within my thumb soul that needed to be scratched immediately. But of course, rule follower that I am, I didn't.
So, two days later, when the nice doctor told me I could bend it, and in fact, it was time to bend it and I should definitely bend it now, I told him my visceral itch story. He told me that was my body's way of letting me know it was time to bend my finger. He told me that was my instincts kicking in and WHAT he blew my mind, I started imagining cave men listening to their body's signals instead of waiting for someone to look at a week-old X-ray and grant permission.
Well, the lesson here is either that doctors are pointless and we do not need to listen to them... OR that we can rejoice in the knowledge we already have inside us. For me, I will likely continue to consult with the nice medical professionals in my world, but really, maybe I can celebrate understanding what my body is telling me, if even a little bit, before asking for approval.
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