Injuries Big and Small, External and Internal

    I jammed my ring finger on my left hand Monday morning, playing basketball. Many of us played on the MLK holiday. It was an unnecessary injury, but it happened. (How many injuries are necessary?). I played with the pain for a game and a half, but then I sat out the rest. I cooled off, got some ice. The middle knuckle continued to swell, thus my left hand was not functional to dribble, pass, or shoot, or even rebound, likely. I sat out. A buddy recommended that I pull it, fix it, and play on, but I knew this injury would only get worse, that I could make it a more painful problem, or that it could remain a longer term injury if I pushed it that morning. I put ice on it to reduce the swelling. 

    Yesterday, Friday, four days later, my ring finger turned a sickly yellow, the whole length of it-- reminding me of how the skin of corpses look, either in a coffin or being prepared for burial. I have seen more dead people in the caskets, but I also helped dress Jesus Amezquita over twenty years ago, up close and personal. Dead, jaundiced looking skin. The whole finger, not just the offending knuckle. My wedding ring would not fit when it was most swollen two and three days later; the same ring did not fit well on my right hand, either. The right ring hand ring finger is thicker. Probably because of use.

    I have used my left hand with the wounded finger all week. A few times I think I have re-injured or re-aggravated it a little, or made it slower to heal. I drive, I type, I open doors, mess with clothing and laundry. I pick up some things. Opening doors or handles can hurt my finger.

    This is a relatively small injury, but it has bothered me externally, but a bit on the inside as well. As I said before: this jammed finger happened for an unnecessary reason. My own teammate caused it, or at least made the ball do something unplanned that jammed my finger. He was playing a bit reckless or selfish, in my opinion. A few times this week I wanted to play against him, and maybe hurt him. Not good. I should not hold him responsible for this finger issue.

    Stinking thinking, I admitted at dinner last night. I realized this on my own later. I should not blame him, and less, seek a type of vindictive revenge. How would that help? Settling the score? Not the best reaction, plan, or impulse. He did not mean to hurt me. He plays with a little too much grit, arguably.

    Who hurts us? How are we wounded? We see and feel death and insult, injury and pain from many sources. Some offenses are worse than others. Some things last longer, both physically and emotionally. It happen spiritually too. We can be wounded, sometimes long-term, all kinds of ways. How do we heal?

    J.D. Salinger survived World War II, but it wounded him for life. He survived many harrowing, deadly moments and events that thousands did not. His life after that and his art, characters, and the analysis of him, the most reclusive best-selling author, stays with us and our psyches. Adolph and his forces hurt him, and us, and the psychological, the internal mysteries and injuries remain, bopping around our own consciousnesses. 

    Salinger had to do some awful, ghastly things. He even saw and experienced more terrible, heart-wrenching events, making it back to his home country, after seeing a lot of the worst of humanity, but somehow maintaining his heart and soul intact. We think. He lived a long life.  Long live the spooked recluse who killed and fought for his country! So we would not have to do and see all that nastiness and trauma, at least most of us would never be exposed to it. God bless those troops who live and do the hardest things. Some suffer profound and at times irreversible injuries through sacrifice so that the rest of us do not have to. Hard, but true. We are grateful for those that take it for the rest of us.

    Ok, I said what I meant to. Thanks for those dialogues, Holden Caulfield, Sergeant Salinger, the authors and researchers who have dug deep into the man and the legend, the misfit and the secret, private, artist. Haunted and hounded by history. Trying to save the kids from the big cliff by the rye fields.  That is what Holden wanted to do. Preserve innocence. Keep us pure. He wished to protect us for the lives lived, the damages witnessed, absorbed, and interpreted, and how we go on to the next wounds whether visible or lying deep within our hearts and minds. Our internal organs and brains withstand many injuries, we might say.

    Blog it. OKAY, an addendum. Next day, Sunday, after my Saturday post.

    Yesterday another person was killed in Minneapolis by government officials. This is two people in one week, dead, which is distressing to many, including people that I care about and I am close to. On many levels I am concerned for the proper execution or implementation of law enforcement and the rule of law. Due justice and peace need to be foremost in our minds in this and all times.

    We are wounded and scars remain from injustice and tragedy.

    How do we heal? How do we grow from the wounds and injuries that we sustain?