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On Monday night of this past week, I happened to be in the way of a speeding softball. Well... that's not exactly true... I just didn't catch the ball in time. I was playing 2nd base at a church league softball game, and after the batter hit the ball my way, I, being the completely clumsy and inexperienced sports player that I am, couldn't get my gloved hand there in time. Instead I got slammed by the ball on my unprotected hand... my left hand, the hand with which I draw, paint, eat, write, live . Buckled over and gripping my hand in pain, I knew immediately that the middle finger was broken. The ball had peeled the nail back slightly, causing it to bleed, but worse, there was the crooked silhouette of a bone being obviously out of place.
Steve rushed me to a minute clinic; I …
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