To make a long story short, the knuckle is still sore and bruised, and I have not been able to wear my wedding rings on that finger since. (I have switched them to my right hand. I think the most important thing is that I wear them, no matter which hand.) Because of that, ballistabob has been bugging me to get that finger seen. My sweetie worries about me, and he thought that there might be a bone chip floating somewhere. Floating bone chips are not a good thing.
Me, I'm the kind that would probably fix my finger with a stapler, but in this case it was better to get an appointment lest I would be given the morning harangue for weeks to come. (Plus I love the fact that my husband cares. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.)
So the doctor takes X-rays and the whole shebang, and lo and behold . . . there is no knuckle fracture. What there is, is arthritis resulting from what appears to be an older injury.
An older injury? In a rapier fighter's knuckles? Imagine that! Did anyone say dagger fighting? Quillion injuries? Uber-enthusiastic infigthing? Oh, the humanity!
The drawback is that my knuckle may never go back to its former shape and size. This, the doctor says, is a common injury in football players and other athletes, in view of which I am left with two options:
a) I have my wedding rings re-sized; or
b) I continue wearing them on my right finger.
I think I will go with b). The problem with re-sizing rings is that they get structurally weaker. And there are countries in this world where the wedding bands are worn on the right as opposed to the left hand. So there.
In other news, I have tacked the lining to the skirt of my 12th Night overgown, tacked the shoulder rolls, and covered them. Tonight, I must finish tacking the aforementioned covers, hem the sleeves, attach the decorations to the bodice, and cut the cuffs. If I have time, I may even attach some decorations to the skirt on Friday, but that remains to be seen.
Can I go home now? I need to sleep. ZZZZZZZZZ