On Friday night I had a bit of a doozy. Encouraged by a bit of weight loss I put my engagement and wedding rings back on after their two-year holiday in the bedside drawer. I headed out with some girlfriends feeling triumphant.
That was until I looked down half way through the night and realised that my ring finger was turning a worrying shade of reddish blue. Like when I tried to shove my size 14 hips into my pre-baby size 10 jeans, an angry muffin top had exploded above my engagement ring. By the time I got home it had developed its own ‘heartbeat’ and the pain was horrendous. After failing to compress my finger’s now indigo-coloured swelling, I started to panic and made my way to the local emergency department.
I’m not quite sure what the triage nurse thought when a crazed woman with a blotchy mascara-stained face presented her with a bloated blue finger at 2:30am. All the while crying uncontrollably. Whatever she thought, she didn’t show it. She handed me a tissue and some painkillers and calmly explained that it would all be ok and they would help free my bulging finger from its white gold choke as soon as possible.