Theraputic Applications for Frozen Foods

Last month, I started training with the local ladies football GAA team. A friend of ours once described gaelic football as a "makey-uppy game." It has some elements of rugby to it, I guess, a touch of soccer, a little handball, and the same sort of scoring as hurling. I'm just working out with the team for now. Maybe next year I'd be comfortable actually joining them, but for now, it's a good way for me to get in shape for camogie and to meet people.

At training this past Wednesday, I jammed my middle finger during a drill. It smarted for a few seconds and then I forgot about it. I wear protective gloves, which absorb most of the shock of the ball hitting my hands.

About 30 minutes later, we took a quick water break. We'd been running hard, playing a sort of keep-away, so the break and the water were both appreciated. Something inside my glove felt funny, so I pulled it off and saw that my middle finger was bent at the first knuckle. I couldn't straighten it. Although I could curl it up into a fist with minimal pain, when I unclenched my fist and straigtened my fingers, the top of the middle finger hung down like a broken twig.

I showed it to the coach who said "Ah, yeah, I've one of those. You better ice it." Which I did for the rest of practise. The result was the freezing of my whole body as the wind was quite chilly and I was dressed to run around, not stand still with my hand in a bag of ice. I was leery of messing around with it though - I knew Peter would scold me if I played on when I was hurt.

At home, Peter met me outside as I was getting out of the car. (It's so nice to come home and have both Peter and Toby waiting for me.) I brandished my middle finger, telling him "I f***ed up my f*** you finger!"

He made all the appropriate sympathetic statements and then admonished me to ice it. I pulled out my designated ice pack - a bag of frozen peas that I picked up on the way home from camogie last year when I had a touch of tendonitis in my elbow. It's my contention that frozen peas are actually created solely to be used as ice packs. No one likes frozen peas, except for maybe Laurie in her youth.

The next thing I did was to call Nurse Mom at work. She recommended a splint ("Do you have a popsicle stick?"), soaking/icing, Ibuprofen, and gentle exercising. (Not all at once, obviously.) Which is probably what the doctor would tell me, but this way saves me both the trip and the 50 euro for the consultation.

I dispatched Peter to the village shop to get Elastoplast tape and some manner of ice cream on a stick. Since I've given up sweets for Lent, Peter had to be a buddy and eat the ice cream for me. When the ice cream stick was clean, Peter very gently wrapped up my finger.

So, there you have it. Frozen peas and ice cream bars - they're not just for breakfast anymore. My finger feels fine, but it still looks like a bent twig.