Last week, I burned both my hands in a kitchen grease fire. (The left hand, particularly the thumb) is REALLY scorched. Possible nerve damage even.) The net result is that both my hands are heavily bandaged. So today, my mom had to wipe my butt after I pooped.
Now, I claim that my play age is between three and five, so perhaps I should have enjoyed this on some level. But all I could think of is that line from Mitch Albom's book Tuesday's With Morrie, where Morrie tells Ted Koppel that he dreaded the day that someone would be wiping his ass.
I've also started practicing writing right-handed. Just in case my thumb has to go bye-bye. And being a Little, I naturally did so in Crayon. LOL
As for the prognosis, the ER docs seem to think there's a chance Thumkin can be saved. Best case scenario, though, is that I'm likely to have a gnarly looking hand for life. Oh well, it will make for a teaching moment when the kids I volunteer with ask why it looks that way. (or perhaps why the thumb's gone.)