The ring wouldn’t budge. So, I turned to my trusty friend Google and found the below video...
JL wrapped my finger with an elastic cord. I huffed and puffed, but didn't cry or scream. Fine. I may have let out a yelp. And a few choice curse words may have slipped from my mouth.
Sacré bleu! Purée! Mince!
Unfortunately, this method didn't work.
HOWEVER, the cord compressed my finger so much – with a little soap and some teamwork- SUCCESS! We raced to the ER. By the time we arrived home, I had 45 minutes to get ready for our dinner. JL offered to help me wash my hair.
Since then, I've had to see a hand specialist three times and I have 30 sessions with a physical therapist. Currently, my finger has 30% mobility. My doc is hoping for 60%. My ring finger is still buddy-taped to my index finger and I still can’t get my rings on. (I’m crossing the fingers on my right hand). Anyhoo, for the first month, I had to rely on JL to help me do the things I couldn't – like lifting heavy pans, bringing in the groceries, etc.
Fast forward to this past Wednesday.
What goes around comes around.
JL took a couple of vacation days and was building me a garden box (pictured below). He used leftover wood from our deck for the base – Brazilian Ipe to be precise, described as being "tough as nails." A regular electric saw wouldn't cut through the wood. So he pulled out the dreaded circular saw. The saw slipped and he ended up cutting his right hand, slicing through three tendons. (Makes my broken finger seem like child's play). I raced him to the emergency room. Luckily, a hand specialist was able to operate that very same day.
La fille asked, "Did Papa cry?"
I said, "Like a baby."
"Really?" she asked.
I raised a brow. "You know your father. He's Jean-Luc. Of course, he didn't cry."
|6 weeks in a splint.|
On Friday, his doctor unwrapped the ham hand bandages (very top picture), replacing them with a hand/half-arm splint. Now, he walks like an Egyptian. Thankfully, he hasn't been in any pain. And, thankfully, JL was wearing gloves. If he wasn't...
'Tis Only a Flesh Wound!
JL was adamant to finish the garden box...with my help, of course. (Two hands are better than one). We went to the local hardware store and bought 20 euros worth of pine planks, which, compared to the Ipe wood, cut like butter with a regular electric saw. Good hand and good hand, we finished the project on Saturday. All the garden box cost us was 20 euro, a trip to the ER, and six weeks of me tying JL's shoes, peeling his apples, and buttoning his buttons.
|6 feet long/ 3 feet high|
Sure, we're both a bit busted up, but we make a good team – taking the bad right along with the good.
And that, my friends, is what love is all about.
Super news! Latvian and Hungarian rights to Seven Letters from Paris sold last week!
I had a wonderful author event at Barnes & Noble in Santa Monica when I was back in California for a week! A huge thanks to B&N and to those who came from near and far to support me and my book, including authors Jennifer L. Scott (At Home with Madame Chic) and Teresa J. Rhyne (The Dogs Were Rescued and So Was I). Did I mention this was the first time I'd seen my book in a store?
Pinch me! (Wait don't- I bruise easily...)
|A proud moment!|
|I brought my own hummingbird along...|
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xox and bisous from Toulouse,