No good deed goes unpunished

While helping a friend do some landscaping the other day -- moving some railroad ties that must have weighed at least 2,700 pounds -- I bumped my hand into a post. The post didn't mind; in fact it didn't budge a bit. The 2,700 pound railroad tie was not bothered by the collision either. The little finger on my right hand, however, objected vehemently. Today I learned why: it's fractured. Nothing to do about it except immobilize it and let it mend. Fortunately, there should be no long-term consequences other than a slightly bent pinky.

If you're in Northern Virginia and need some orthopedic attention -- say, for a broken finger or a bum knee or a sore rotator cuff -- may I recommend Dr. Mark Theiss? He's treated me for all three of those complaints and he's been great. Admittedly, today's case was probably one of the easier ones he's dealt with in a while and probably anybody would have put a splint on my finger and said "Come back to see me in 10 days." What was most remarkable about today's visit wasn't the treatment he gave me but the fact that I had a visit at all. I didn't phone his office until around 9:15 this morning and told the receptionist that I think I broke my finger last week. Surprisiingly, she said that if I came over this morning, she'd try to squeeze me in. "Gosh," I said, "I can't. I'm on my way to Manassas right now. I was kind of hoping maybe for this afternoon?" She studied her schedule for a minute or so and then "OK. Go to the radiology department at 3:15. I'll send an order down for an x-ray. After the x-ray, come on up to our office." And that's exactly how it came to pass. I was x-rayed, diagnoosed, splinted up, and on my way home by 4:00.