Worst possible timing? Affirmative.

I rode Altibo Bay for the first time yesterday - and had a pretty spectacular crash landing over some jumps. At first I thought it was my collar bone, but once the adrenaline wore off and I got home (after untacking, putting his 3 rugs on and driving home with one arm) the pain got worse and worse in my shoulder, elbow and wrist, and I soon noticed my knuckle swelling up. I denied the option of going to the doctor, as I can't think of anything I like less (except for maybe food stuck in the bottom of the sink. I mean, come on. That's just gross.), but after an hour or so I caved. I had x-rays this morning, which to me look fine (see above). I'm off to the doctor again now to see what the verdict is; and to confirm to Cameron I will in fact be absolutely fine to move all our funiture from our two houses to our new house on Thursday. It must be said, when I first plucked up the courage to tell him I was hurt, there was no concern over my wellbeing, I was simply informed I had chosen the worst possible timing to go breaking bits of myself. Feel the love!

Note: it took about 45 minutes to type that with one hand. Putting on mascara? Nope. Buttering my toast? Not so easy. Using my phone? Practically impossible. Packing my glassware with one hand? Impressively easy to do.