Beware of roadside trees

Hunt and peck. Hunt and peck.
I haven’t had to use this method of typing in a long time. But the splint on my left hand doesn’t leave me much choice.
I broke my left ring finger a week ago Wednesday while driving home from work. I was just cruising along, minding my own business, when this tree jumped up and bit the side of my car.
I can honestly say that tree’s bite is much worse than its bark.
I’ve driven by the crash site a couple of times since then. I see that tree there, looking so smug and innocent. But I know better. I know that deep down beneath that tree is the root of all evil. I suspect the tree is plotting revenge for something we call “fencepost.”
Actually, the whole thing was my fault. At least that’s what the nice man in the trooper’s uniform told me. I’m very thankful that no one else was hurt. And I want to give a little shout out to Rick Aquino for coming to my rescue. He was kind enough to stop and call the ambulance for me.
And to Elizabeth, the Waller County EMT who took such good care of me, don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.
Of course the five hours spent in the emergency room at Katy Memorial Hermann reminds me whey they call them “patients.” The saving grace for me was the really terrific drugs that took me to my “happy place.” I just wish I had been on them when they brought in this medieval torture device called a ring cutter.
The nice solid gold wedding band that had not been off my finger since Sandy put it there more than nine years ago had to be cut twice to get it off. The emotional pain of that was second only to the physical pain – a very distant second.
The ring was already stuck to my pudgy little finger, but the swelling required its immediate removal. The nurse somehow managed to get the scissor-like appendage of the ring cutter under the ring, which really pushed down hard on the break.
I’m one who can generally take a healthy dose of pain, but had I been an al Qaeda operative, the FBI would now know where Osama bin Laden is hiding. Waterboarding has nothing on ring cutters!
By the time you read this, I will be recovering from surgery to install a plate and pin in my finger. You see, the accident left my finger making a hard left turn at the knuckle. And the finger is twisted. Don’t ask me how, I just know it is.
I’m not looking forward to surgery, but if I get to go back to my “happy place” for a while, all will not be lost.
Of course all this trouble is nothing compared to the pain of dealing with the insurance company. Apparently the COBRA people neglected to tell the insurance company that we were paying for insurance. The insurance company was showing our coverage terminated even though we had paid thousands for COBRA coverage.
You can bet Ma Bell learned some new vocabulary words if she was listening in on any of the many phone calls made in the last couple of days. It helps that my wife used to work for the insurance company and knew exactly what strings to pull. I pity the people on the other end of the line. She had their defenses mowed over in no time.
Having a wife with a nursing and insurance background is a really nice ace up my sleeve. She has saved us quite a chunk of money over the years with her ability to “have it out” with insurance companies. If there are any medical facilities out there who would like to have a hired gun like that, she’s available for employment.
But I digress. I am now back to the part of having to hunt and peck in order to write this column. If a football player breaks a finger, they just tape it up and send him back into the game. For a writer, that’s a different story. My fingers automatically know where to go on the keyboard. Now that almost half of them are out of commission, things move a little slower.
Please bear with me if I’m not able to get all the stories into the paper that I planned to. Personally, I blame the tree, which, if it were up to me, would be on its way right now to be pulverized into paper for this newspaper to be printed on.
P.S. Happy 14th birthday Wesley!