Not according to plan

Big A is still in Denver, so I'd cobbled together some childcare for Nu on my long teaching day. Nu would take the school bus home, walk to L's, help her plant a tree and hang out, and we'd both have dinner at L's before coming home, and collapsing in pajamas for our "sleepover" in the rumpus room with Scout and Huck.

Instead I started receiving texts on family chat from At while I was on my way home telling me that the "sprained" finger I'd asked him to have looked at ten days ago, was actually a dislocated finger, and Dr. H at our family practice couldn't get it to stay in place despite a couple of times of "popping it back" (™) because his muscles and tendons had knitted wrong in the intervening days. Big A told him to go see a colleague of his at the E.R. in Lansing, so that's where we spent the rest of the evening.

It took several tries of Lidocaine and people tugging on his finger (and At making the inevitable fart jokes) before they could get the joint positioned and splinted. It was actually pretty traumatic. There was so much numbing agent that the base of his finger started to bleed, and despite his general good humor and inability to not be a sweet smartassy jokester, it was clear that the pain was getting to be too much. Not to be outdone, I somehow lost my insurance card despite putting it back in my wallet. And Nu having somehow ingested a peanut butter chip in a cupcake earlier, vomited repeatedly--but elegantly--into a plastic bag at the E.R. All in all, we made quite an impression at Big A's work.
_