... or, Look Maw No Hands
Last night found old AC in the ER as a result of attempting to therapize his left hand, the one that has tendinitis in the fingers as a result of the old fool trying to learn to play the violin when he should have been content to rock gently into his dotage ... instead of going off his rocker in his dotage.
Although not terribly clever, months after his fiddle fingers flared up, old AC finally saw the wisdom of laying the instrument aside for the time being and of seeking medical advice. That resulted in the old fella visiting the friendly physiotherapist twice this week. AC and Therapist are becoming fast friends as this is the third condition for which he has sought her help in 18 months. AC appreciates that she helps ameliorate his pain and suffering, and she appreciates the new addition to her house that his frequent afflictions have financed.
One of Therapist's strategies was to advise AC to apply alternate hot and cold packs to his fingers. It's not her fault really because she doesn't yet understand that AC is an accident waiting to happen. And as it so happens, when he heated the thermal pack in the microwave last night, behold it did split and ooze the hot stuff.
Unfortunately, he did not realize that this breakage and seepage had occurred until he found his hand, his good hand mind you, beginning to burn alarmingly. And that's how AC came to find himself in the ER. The following photo shows him with both hand attended to, the burnt hand all gauzed up and the tendinitis hand in the splint that he is supposed to wear at night.
You wouldn't call AC a handyman at the best of times, and you sure wouldn't now as he has no hands with which to work. TG for voice recognition technologies that enable him to continue to blog. (Just kidding; the preponderance of pain abated in the middle of the night, and the bandages came off this morning.)