So I've broken the pinkie on my right hand. In an accident involving a lightswitch (yes, really) there was a meeting of bone against corner and a rather sweet little snappy sound.
I then spent a good while swearing every word I know while Hobbits stared wide-eyed, for once bad language was not pointed out. I think they could see this was not the time. As though they don't hate me enough I am now sure the neighbours will think me completely mad.
Now I know it is broken yet I haven't gone to hospital. Most people would scoff and say how could I, a mere mortal, know that it is broken for definite and why wouldn't I go to hospital. There are reasons, I do have them.
A while back I broke the ring finger of my left hand, so badly it had swollen before I could get my wedding ring off. In an act I now see as prophecy of some kind the hospital had to cut the ring off, which was more painful than the actual break itself and which left my finger with burn marks. Even worse was, as they were cutting the ring off they had to pull at the broken finger. I didn't pass out but it was a near thing.
So I know what a broken finger looks like, I know what it feels like and I know how the hospital treat it. For my ring finger I had tape, yes plain old strapping tape, holding broken finger to the finger next to it. No splint or anything. Rather than go to hospital this time, wait around for about 3 hours to hear what I already know and all for a piece of tape, I just went to the local chemist. One roll of tape later and it is sorted (not the whole roll at once you understand, I need the rest to change it once it gets manky.)
Still hurts now and again but the swelling is down and the colour is back to a sort of normal shade, it is interesting that although probably considered an insignificant digit, having the pinkie strapped defenseless against another finger proves its worth.
You've got to laugh.