Not for something like this.  It's improving steadily. I'm taking
appropriate doses of anti-inflammatories, using an anticonvulsant
effective against nerve pain, and working them in hot water. I may put
an elastic bandage on my left hand.

My biggest problem is needing to type on some deadlined projects.

I have damaged my hand much more dramatically. When I was running the
clinical computer center for Georgetown University Medical Center, on
one Sunday morning, my first wife and I were reading the Sunday paper
and horsing around on the bed. Playfully, I scooped her up with one hand
but put her down in an unwise place.

As I commented, after hearing the loud *CRACK*, "OOOOWWWWWEEEEEARRowow",
which, to any rational person, should obviously have meant, "Get off my
thumb."  She stroked my face and ground it a little deeper, but
apparently "OGOGOGOGOGOwoooooo" got the message across.

For some reason, I concluded it was a sprain, iced and taped it, and
then spent the next several weeks brushing it against things and
fainting. Finally, in one meeting at the hospital, I was in so much pain
that I excused myself from a meeting, and went down the hall looking for
the first physician I knew.  Finding one, I said "Bob, I guess I'm going
to have to get this looked at. In the meantime, can you get me some
codeine?"

"Can't do that."

"Why not? You think I'm a junkie?"

"No, I'm not allowed."

"Why not?  You're even an associate professor!"

"Of pathology. I don't have a current narcotics license for live people.
May I offer you an autopsy?"

Rather gracefully, I declined, and we loaded me with a near-toxic dose
of aspirin. He wrote out an X-ray requisition, and I wandered down to
radiology. They gave me a very strange look, but I thought that was
simply because most patients don't ask to be paged with the results.

Indeed, I was paged, and told that it was both dislocated and fractured
in five places. My colleague had already called orthopedics, and told me
to head down to the orthopedic treatment area, where I'd be met.

Once there in the main orthopedic treatment room, the chief resident was
waiting for me.  I started to explain, and then several doors opened,
and faculty and residents poured in. Rather mystified, I inquired the
reason for the group therapy.  If it was because I worked for another
department chairman (biochemistry), it was quite an honor.

The co-chair of orthopedics grinned, and said, "well, no, it wasn't
quite that. My secretary called and said pathology was referring a
patient to us, and he'd be walking to the treatment room. She also told
me that she had the X-rays, along with the cadaver radiology request
form with which they had been ordered. I _had_ to see for myself just
what was coming in."

I've never met a ham I did not like. : ")

Just as an aside, if you live in an area with a Kosher store, you can find
Kosher "bacon". It's beef strips, and it tastes fairly similar to bacon.

But you still can't mix milk and meat!

Marjorie