In a jam in the gym

This week Jordan had a volleyball game on Monday. And Tuesday. And she has another one tonight. For those keeping score at home, that's not one, not two, but three - count 'em - three games.

Monday night during warm ups, she mouthed to me that she had hurt her finger. I kind of dismissed it, "You're fine. Shake it off. Go play." During the game, I saw her messing with it after she hit. After the game our convo went something like this (now please remember, we typically have more than our fair share of drama and occasional exaggerations, thus the continued dismissal):

Jordan: I messed up my finger.
Me: I'm sure it's fine. Get in the car. We'll look at it later.
Jordan: No really, I hurt my finger. I think it's broken.
Me: I'm sure it's not broken. Get in the car. We'll put some ice on it when we get home. (A baggie of ice is my universal cure-all and my act of total buy-in to a non-issue.)
Jordan: Seriously Mother. I need to get this checked out.

So she showed me her pinky.

And it was about the size of her thumb. OK, maybe not THAT swollen. But pretty swollen. Fortunately I know of a good orthopaedic practice that has an after hours clinic. {ahem}

Long story short, an xray confirmed it wasn't broken. Just a major sprain and some swollen tissues. Nothing a little buddy taping can't fix. And some motrin, and some ice. And a good dose of whining apparently.

However, since then, she has had her best games all year. So if her finger starts feeling better today, I may slam it in the car door to get ready for tonight's game. JUST KIDDING PEOPLE!!! I am not going to slam her pinky in the car door. I'm just gonna' pull on it real hard. KIDDING AGAIN! I would not do that. Just like I would not chop my son's legs off.

See ya' at the gym.