Today was the day I’d been dreading: surgery to repair the tendon I’d managed to sever in my thumb. As you can imagine, sleep was more of a suggestion than a reality. I kept jolting awake thinking I’d overslept, or worse, dreaming the surgery had already gone sideways. By 7:30 a.m. we were at the hospital, and by 8 I was admitted and sent to the fracture clinic. The doctor took one look and confirmed the tendon was indeed severed and needed repairing as soon as possible—leave it too long and you’re looking at a far more dramatic procedure. No argument from me; I signed the consent forms and braced myself.
By 10:30 my thumb was frozen and the surgery began. All under local anesthetic, meaning I was wide awake for the whole thing—anyone who knows me will appreciate how not ideal that is. Thankfully everything went smoothly. The two ends of the tendon were found, reunited, and tied, followed by thirty-plus stitches to put my thumb back together. By 11:30 a.m., it was all done and dusted.
We hadn’t planned much for the rest of the day anyway. Between the heat, humidity, and smoke from the forest fires, plus the small matter of recovering from having my thumb filleted like a fish, low-key seemed wise. We did manage to track down a very respectable ice-cream shop, where I indulged in a clearly medicinal dose.
After a short rest at the trailer, we wandered down to the old harbor for a gentle walk. The sky had turned an unreal shade—thanks to the heat and the forest fires—casting everything in a hazy, almost post‑apocalyptic glow.
We then headed home early to watch some TV and get to bed. Tomorrow marks the beginning of five long driving days to catch up with our original itinerary, so an early night felt like the right call.
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