Senseless Touch

“Good game, good game, good game…” their voices vaguely echoing in my head. That’s the most I can remember. “You played quite well today.” Congratulatory comments of a short-lived victory that was quickly outshined by the pounding of my injured fingers. It was a fun game but the pain is what I remember best, much to my dismay. And to think that I was the most alert, as speedy as I’d ever been, darting from one side to the other, blocking the ball from even caressing the net. It was a friendly game but I took it somewhat seriously. 

I don’t remember much from the impact, or perhaps my mind blocked it, but I do remember the soundless laughter from some of the casual spectators. They seemed to have thought it was a mere hit until they witnessed a quick hiss I let out from the sudden pain. It was indescribable, but I quickly dismissed it and got my head back in the game. My desire to finish the game was apparently bigger than the pain, until I woke up from this frenzy. 

My middle finger and my ring finger were both bent and sensitive to the touch. I tried stretching them but, even if they moved, the slight numbness made it clear that they were badly hurt. “Could it be a fracture?” I thought, and yet I wasn’t minding it as much as I should have. To my knowledge it wasn’t as grave as I thought. Spent most of that morning with my mind somewhat adrift, thoughts taking flight as soon as the pain conquered me. 

After the game I had agreed to see a friend for lunch. We were craving what we normally had back in those muggy days, our usual rendezvous to catch up pretty much on nothing about our dull lives. La creperie was packed with a sea of smiley faces, and a welcoming ambiance, that made it a tad difficult for me to spot my friend from even up close. When he finally saw me, my funny-looking fingers quickly caught his attention and I had no choice but to sum up the unfortunate event. 

“So you got hit by the ball, you said?” My friend’s eyes glued on his crepe as he spoke.

“Yup. It came out of nowhere.” 

“Was it really bad?”

“I felt an excruciating pain but my eyes were fixated on the game. I wanted to end it. I think I should’ve paid attention to it right from the get-go though.” Kept forking my crepe with my good hand. The impotence I felt from the uselessness infuriated me.

That was the only good thing that day, the crepe, despite having played well. But the subsequent events post-game were as distasteful as the misfortunate incident, and my pessimism blamed it all on the latter. They could’ve been coincidences or just the universe playing me dirty. The tingling I felt slowly dissipated. You’d think that now that the pain was gone my fingers were back to normal but not exactly, I lost all the little sensitivity I had left. Fully numb for short. And to top it off, they were both stiff and bent. No matter how hard I tried to stretch them, they wouldn’t. 

That Sunday went from holy to hellish for all things took a sour turn. Now, picture my annoyance drawn all over my face, how could a hapless incident possibly affect everything else? Alas, surprised I was not because it sure did rain on my parade. And by rain I meant pour. 

On my way home it started to pour unexpectedly and I had forgotten my umbrella. Showered by rain of unluckiness, and actual water from the sky, I had to wait an extra 30 minutes for the train to arrive. I was sure my phone was soaked yet mentally unprepared for what was coming next. Yes, you guessed right, my phone wouldn’t turn on. Stiff fingers, wet from head to toe, and a probable dead phone, turned my fury into desperation. I couldn’t wait to set foot home. “I shouldn’t have gone to the game.” I thought loudly. “Everything went sideways after the game. And I can’t feel my fingers…” This blurred my focus. I wasn’t sure whether to go home or straight to the hospital. The inability to feel started to worry me but still opted to go home anyway. 

The commute wasn’t the smoothest. No seats available on the train, no surprise. The train car was jammed with sweaty bodies and infested with a nauseating pungence like you wouldn’t believe. A second “no surprise”. Careful I tried my best to be yet a heavenly creature - pardon my sarcasm - thought it would be slick to squeeze himself out and harm my already wounded fingers. That summery Sunday was indeed cursed. This rather stupid move didn’t even make my fingers tingle a bit. This was my cue to seek help pronto. 

Another 2 hours wasted in the ER. Reasons I have enough to loathe healthcare centers. They’re inefficient and exhausting, an injured human shouldn’t have to wait this long to be assisted. It’s ridiculous how the first place we should trust most, it’s the first thing that fails us. I didn’t just win a football game, I also won a gold medal for impatience. I’m sure you’re blaming me for not taking the matter seriously earlier. 

“It’s your turn, sir. Please come this way. The doctor is waiting.” A timid nurse led the way. The doctor’s office smelled like alcohol and latex. 

He seemed pretty concerned and this, frankly, concerned me too. He advised me to go to another specialist the same day and you already know those were another 2 hours down the drain. Why exactly 2 hours, you might wonder, but I’m just as baffled as you are. Everything came in pairs that day, starting with my two senseless fingers. “Good game, good game, good game…” voices kept replaying in my head. A myriad of fortunate possibilities could’ve happened but I was gifted with bad luck instead. 

The second doctor looked even more startled than the first one. I wanted planet earth to swallow me. “Hmm, at first I thought you might need surgery but now that I’m looking carefully, you won’t.” He said as he relaxed his eyebrows. My face went from chalky to feeling alive again. My gosh, what do you mean by “looking carefully”? Didn’t you “look carefully” since you grabbed my fingers? Am I supposed to feel at ease after this remark? I swear the healthcare system is useless in this day and age. 

The doctor advised me to rest and go back after three weeks. I wasn’t “allowed” to do anything risky, and that meant no sports and no other type of exercising. This deeply saddened me. The only good thing I had going on that summer and even that was snatched from me. Yet another disappointment. Now we rewind: numb fingers, extreme soaking, a possible dead phone, an uncomfortable ride home and discouraging news from the physician. The unholiest of the holiest Sundays. There I was, with my head low, and my enthusiasm below zero.

My journey back home wasn’t pleasant either. I was famished so I stopped by a local market to buy some fruit. The lady at the store was surprisingly kind since she gave me an extra peach as courtesy. “At least something went well.” I thought but my good fortune there was rather momentary. As I waved goodbye, a boy came in running and ripped open my bag of peaches. None were saved. My face was overcome with evident wrath. I picked them up, took a look at every single one of them and tossed them. I looked back on the hopes that the lady had witnessed such an atrocious moment but she was nowhere to be found. My cynical self bet she hid somewhere to avoid helping me. 

Never knew a hungry me could be so menacing. I was sick and tired of everything so I finally just headed back home. The trains were either full or slow. I closed my eyes wishing for autumn to come. 

I dipped my phone in a rice sack so it would sponge the water from it. I left it there mindlessly and not caring much about it. Home didn’t feel as cozy. I was supposed to take two anti-inflammatory pills that I forgot to buy. I sat there in the dark, curtain slightly to the side, my room weakly illuminated by street lights, thinking about all the nuisance and gloom that lingered. Football was the little fun I had that time. The only significant thing going on in my life for that matter. 

Monday morning came in quickly. I took my phone out of the sack first thing. I tried to turn it on but nothing happened. I breathed in, breathed out. Tried one more time but covered myself with calmness this time. Again, nothing. I threw the phone across the room out of irritation. It suddenly lit up. I got close and decided not to touch it. The impact must’ve caused it to turn on. I still didn’t get my hopes up. I kept staring at the screen unblinkingly. There it was, back on, like nothing happened and all the notifications popped up. One particular message caught my attention.

“I hope you had a blast at your game. I miss you terribly but I’ll wait for you.” 

There I stood, immobile, yet I didn’t think I’d find myself smiling and just when I thought it couldn’t be possible, my ring finger moved a bit.