Busted Finger
Steve never calls me while on the hotel van. Like, never. Like, so much so that I know better than to think about calling him during that ride. Like, he will even ignore some calls if I happen to call during that time.
Whatever. It doesn't bother me. I think he does it for respect for his fellow crew mates. Who wants to hear about his personal life on the van ride? I get it.
Well, guess what...Steve called me while on his hotel van the other morning. This is how I knew he was really trying to get out of the dog house.
Let me step back a bit...
Dudley.
Our super-cute asshole of a dog. I love him and hate him. We adopted him from a rescue group. Dudley was a "breeder surrender." Poor Dudley wasn't properly socialized as a pup. Poor Dudley has fear based aggression. We are working on him...and a work-in-progress it is.
Ok, so Monday night I took Niko and Dudley on a walk. It was around 4:30-5p. I have always walked them together. No problem. For the visual, Niko is about 70 pounds, and Dudley is about 65 pounds. 135 pounds in total.
As I was heading down the hill in our neighborhood, I saw our neighbor and her little dog, Ernie, walking up the street. I knew I was in for some trouble...
Long story short, the dogs went nuts and I simply couldn't restrain them. Dudley broke free from me and charged Ernie. He never touched Ernie, but there was lots of lunging and barking.
In the mix of all this, something happened to my middle finger. Like, such a something that I actually thought it was broken.
For the record, I have a pretty high pain tolerance. I birthed a child with no drugs (not by choice, but by time necessity- Cici was born within 24 minutes of getting to the hospital). I'm pretty badass. But, the pain in my finger/hand was really high. I knew something was really wrong.
After getting back to the house, high on adrenaline, I sat at the kitchen table and cried. I was frustrated and in pain.
Ben, my superstar boy scout, immediately got ice and a splint for my finger. Cici was sitting next to me concerned. They saw me cry. I had no shame. They stepped up, and helped me out. Oh, I should add that Steve was in San Diego at this time. Of course this shit happens when the pilot is away. Of course. I'm used to it by this point.
While sitting and crying, I called Steve twice and left him a text message. Radio silence. This just added to my frustration.
After about 10 minutes, I decided it best I got my finger x-rayed. The kids and I headed to an ortho express care about 20 minutes away. On the way, Steve called me. I filled him in. And we talked about what the hell we were going to do about Dudley.
Fast forward...no break. But, still in a ton of pain.
That Monday night I settled in for the night around 10p. And I realized Steve didn't check in on me. That didn't sit well with me.
For reference, this is what my middle finger looked like on Monday night. Admittedly it doesn't look all that bad, but it really was. My knuckle was about three times the size it should be.
I sent him a text expressing my displeasure. No response. He must have been sleeping. Didn't matter, I was still pissed. My finger was throbbing. I had just gone through something somewhat significant, and my husband didn't even bother to check on me.
If you've been reading my blog for a while, there are posts here and there that center around the whole pilot loneliness thing. Folks...that Monday night, I felt incredibly lonely. In a marriage your supposed to have a partner, right? Well, not always the case with a pilot. Not only was he physically away from me, he was also emotionally away from me. It sucked.
This whole pilot wife thing usually doesn't get to me. I like to think I'm pretty well adjusted to it, and I can handle it well. But, there are days (or nights) where it hurts.
I knew exactly what happened to Steve that night...his 3am alarm from earlier that day caught up with him. So, when Steve laid down on his hotel bed to watch tv, he drifted off. And my interpretation is that he drifted off without thinking of me. Enter: the pilot wife who felt incredibly alone.
Tuesday morning while I was getting the kids ready for school Steve texted me. Telling me his lack of checking-in-on-me was because he fell asleep. His text was sincere. I didn't respond. I was pissed. And my finger hurt like hell. I think he also called me. But, I didn't respond to that either. Not really the cold treatment, as much as I was getting the kids ready and I just didn't want to talk.
The kids got on the school bus, and I was headed into the office. Steve called me. I didn't want to answer, but I did.
I wasn't too talkative on the phone, which can be typical if I'm pissy...I get quiet when I'm pissy. Steve thinks it's the silent treatment. It's more of the "if you don't have anything nice to say, say nothing at all."
Steve kept talking, and finally engaged me. We had a decent conversation. There wasn't much background noise, so I wasn't totally sure where he was. That was until he told me he was about to get off the hotel van. He was on the hotel van on his way to the airport when he called me. Folks, this is how I knew he was trying to make right with me.
****
I've been sitting on his post for almost 3 weeks now, and I need to just wrap it up and get it posted to my blog. So let me fast forward to present day. My finger still hurts, but is better. Still swollen, and probably will be for months. I have pain, but full range of motion. The latest development is that it pops when I pull my finger into a fist. I'm getting some personal recommendations for a hand MD, in the event I want to go down that route. Hopefully, it will be okay.
As for Steve getting out of the dog house...it's all good. I'm sure that it was all good even by the time he got home. I don't even remember anymore. Funny how we forget, isn't it?!
As for Dudley, we've started to use a squirt water bottle on him. That works. Walking is still few and far between since I'm afraid to do it on my own. I need a partner, whether it be Steve or Ben or Cici. I need to research shock collars for him as well. But, concentrate more on the beep and vibrating function rather than the actual shock. And for any objections out there...we've done the positive reinforcement thing. It hasn't worked. He's gone after two dogs now, and fucked up my finger. We need to take it to the next level.
I'll keep you updated on both my finger and Dudley.
Whatever. It doesn't bother me. I think he does it for respect for his fellow crew mates. Who wants to hear about his personal life on the van ride? I get it.
Well, guess what...Steve called me while on his hotel van the other morning. This is how I knew he was really trying to get out of the dog house.
Let me step back a bit...
Dudley.
Our super-cute asshole of a dog. I love him and hate him. We adopted him from a rescue group. Dudley was a "breeder surrender." Poor Dudley wasn't properly socialized as a pup. Poor Dudley has fear based aggression. We are working on him...and a work-in-progress it is.
Ok, so Monday night I took Niko and Dudley on a walk. It was around 4:30-5p. I have always walked them together. No problem. For the visual, Niko is about 70 pounds, and Dudley is about 65 pounds. 135 pounds in total.
As I was heading down the hill in our neighborhood, I saw our neighbor and her little dog, Ernie, walking up the street. I knew I was in for some trouble...
Long story short, the dogs went nuts and I simply couldn't restrain them. Dudley broke free from me and charged Ernie. He never touched Ernie, but there was lots of lunging and barking.
In the mix of all this, something happened to my middle finger. Like, such a something that I actually thought it was broken.
For the record, I have a pretty high pain tolerance. I birthed a child with no drugs (not by choice, but by time necessity- Cici was born within 24 minutes of getting to the hospital). I'm pretty badass. But, the pain in my finger/hand was really high. I knew something was really wrong.
After getting back to the house, high on adrenaline, I sat at the kitchen table and cried. I was frustrated and in pain.
Ben, my superstar boy scout, immediately got ice and a splint for my finger. Cici was sitting next to me concerned. They saw me cry. I had no shame. They stepped up, and helped me out. Oh, I should add that Steve was in San Diego at this time. Of course this shit happens when the pilot is away. Of course. I'm used to it by this point.
While sitting and crying, I called Steve twice and left him a text message. Radio silence. This just added to my frustration.
After about 10 minutes, I decided it best I got my finger x-rayed. The kids and I headed to an ortho express care about 20 minutes away. On the way, Steve called me. I filled him in. And we talked about what the hell we were going to do about Dudley.
Fast forward...no break. But, still in a ton of pain.
That Monday night I settled in for the night around 10p. And I realized Steve didn't check in on me. That didn't sit well with me.
For reference, this is what my middle finger looked like on Monday night. Admittedly it doesn't look all that bad, but it really was. My knuckle was about three times the size it should be.
I sent him a text expressing my displeasure. No response. He must have been sleeping. Didn't matter, I was still pissed. My finger was throbbing. I had just gone through something somewhat significant, and my husband didn't even bother to check on me.
If you've been reading my blog for a while, there are posts here and there that center around the whole pilot loneliness thing. Folks...that Monday night, I felt incredibly lonely. In a marriage your supposed to have a partner, right? Well, not always the case with a pilot. Not only was he physically away from me, he was also emotionally away from me. It sucked.
This whole pilot wife thing usually doesn't get to me. I like to think I'm pretty well adjusted to it, and I can handle it well. But, there are days (or nights) where it hurts.
I knew exactly what happened to Steve that night...his 3am alarm from earlier that day caught up with him. So, when Steve laid down on his hotel bed to watch tv, he drifted off. And my interpretation is that he drifted off without thinking of me. Enter: the pilot wife who felt incredibly alone.
Tuesday morning while I was getting the kids ready for school Steve texted me. Telling me his lack of checking-in-on-me was because he fell asleep. His text was sincere. I didn't respond. I was pissed. And my finger hurt like hell. I think he also called me. But, I didn't respond to that either. Not really the cold treatment, as much as I was getting the kids ready and I just didn't want to talk.
 |
| Tuesday morning...now you can see the injury a bit better. for the record, the lack of wedding band is totally a function of me switching it to my right finger. I didn't want to have to cut off a ring from a swollen finger. |
The kids got on the school bus, and I was headed into the office. Steve called me. I didn't want to answer, but I did.
I wasn't too talkative on the phone, which can be typical if I'm pissy...I get quiet when I'm pissy. Steve thinks it's the silent treatment. It's more of the "if you don't have anything nice to say, say nothing at all."
Steve kept talking, and finally engaged me. We had a decent conversation. There wasn't much background noise, so I wasn't totally sure where he was. That was until he told me he was about to get off the hotel van. He was on the hotel van on his way to the airport when he called me. Folks, this is how I knew he was trying to make right with me.
****
I've been sitting on his post for almost 3 weeks now, and I need to just wrap it up and get it posted to my blog. So let me fast forward to present day. My finger still hurts, but is better. Still swollen, and probably will be for months. I have pain, but full range of motion. The latest development is that it pops when I pull my finger into a fist. I'm getting some personal recommendations for a hand MD, in the event I want to go down that route. Hopefully, it will be okay.
As for Steve getting out of the dog house...it's all good. I'm sure that it was all good even by the time he got home. I don't even remember anymore. Funny how we forget, isn't it?!
As for Dudley, we've started to use a squirt water bottle on him. That works. Walking is still few and far between since I'm afraid to do it on my own. I need a partner, whether it be Steve or Ben or Cici. I need to research shock collars for him as well. But, concentrate more on the beep and vibrating function rather than the actual shock. And for any objections out there...we've done the positive reinforcement thing. It hasn't worked. He's gone after two dogs now, and fucked up my finger. We need to take it to the next level.
I'll keep you updated on both my finger and Dudley.
Pinch collar, it will save Dudley's and your life. I compete in Schutzhund with my dog and for training that is the standard.
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