Pain is a great reminder. Well, not great, exactly. But very efficient. It reminds me each time I wiggle it that I shouldn't be using my hand.
Fortunately, it's my right hand. I can still sign my credit card charge slips for gas, motels, food, purchases. Unfortunately, it's my right hand and Steve has to move the shift knob for me and the parking brake, open pill bottles, grab my cup of water and put it in my left hand while the fingers of the right hold the steering wheel steady.
It's been working so far. But it's only been about 24 hours.
Yes, we're calling it a honeymoon. Even though it was "only" a commitment ceremony, it's still a honeymoon. My first, actually, since hubby #1 didn't like the idea of spending that much time with me, or something. Yesterday we made it to Lexana, Kansas, a suburb of K.C. on the western side, positioning us for early take-off, avoiding morning rush hour. The Motel 6 there is great.
Having put a lot of use on the scooters at the ceremony, not to mention the miles the grandkids put on them while we were using chairs, we needed to bring them into the room for charging. Steve's knees were killing him so I chose to let him rest in the room and be doorman for me while I did the hauling. Some things shifted during the drive, and stuff jamed against other stuff. In working one very awkward piece loose, something weighing about 40 lbs. shifted suddenly and the metal edge of it slammed across the base of my thumb, the part where it's still part of the palm.
Needless to say, ouch.
At the moment I have a single opposable thumb, and a club wrapped in an ace bandage. I tried using it, but have no gripping strength. Getting my socks or pants up is interesting. Opening anything only works if it's something I can cradle against my torso with my right arm while I manipulate it with the left hand. This morning I kept either using the thumb accidentally or stupidly trying to do something with it. We stopped at WalMart for an Ace bandage. I looked at all the gismos they had for sale but every single one of them left the thumb free to move. Apparently it's considered essential. At least this way mine's completely trapped against the rest of the hand so I can't use it at all.
It seems that even using the fingers on that hand moves the thumb as well. Don't even get me started on what happens when I try to lift something with just the "club". I'm just really hoping I'll be able to work when we return. If I can't shift or release the brake....
I did manage to use my camera this afternoon at the Cowboy Museum in Oklahoma City. It wasn't as much as I would have liked to, but they have all kinds of rules against cameras in the exhibits. I so would have loved to have about 70 pictures of the different kinds of traditional pottery from various tribes and pueblos. I was particularly intrigued by how different modern Santa Clara is from, say, 100 years ago. They used colors other than black, plainer patterns, not nearly so much deep incising, and the ubitiquous feather pattern of today is all but missing.
While Steve spent a chunk of time viewing the movie cowboys exhibits, I rolled on down to the gift shop to scope it out. The prices were about what you'd expect from a shop which also has to help support the museum, i.e., astronomical. I managed to refrain form purchasing anything, knowing we'd be visiting a couple places which omit a couple of middlemen.
One of those was on the way to Amarillo, where we're staying tonight. Called the Cherokee Trading Post, right off I-40, it offers both the modern made-for-tourists items as well as the behind-locked-cases stuff of decent quality and traditional designs. Steve liked a belt buckle he found... until reading "Taiwan" on the back. Wandering over to the locked cases, he spent a few minutes drooling over a turquoise and silver buckle with a double Kokopelli design. Unfortunately, $175.00. He'll keep hunting.
I did manage to find some interesting pottery for someone who had some promised as a delayed birthday/X-mas present, and a package will be shipped out tomorrow. (Don't hold your breath: it's coming to my address.) No way I'd risk that in the back of the car for another 12 days or more.
Tomorrow we gain an hour somewhere. It's less than 300 miles to Albuquerque, when we head south first to Soccorro for our motel, and then check out Bosque del Apache, watching the birds fly in for the night. We plan to return the next morning to some preselected site for morning lift-off.
Steve's already asleep. It's my turn to turn in. At least this place actually has Wi-Fi as advertised, so I'm taking advantage.