First mentioned in Dyingman 34: Fun in the sun, and a touch of death and brought up again in Dyingman 36: The Wisdom of Cowardice, I broke my pinkie finger while hiking in January of 2007. 
    Circumstances required me to go hiking with my oldest son and along the way, we had to wade through a shallow creek.  Thinking that larger rocks would be sturdier to stand on, I took advantage of one only to find that algae think the exact same thing I did.  Algae are single celled plants.  Little more than a ball of liquid surrounded by a stiff box of hard sugar we call cellulose and coated inside with a membrane.  The membrane is not altogether different from our own cell membranes and they are made of fat molecules with proteins interspersed among them.  The stiff sugar doesn't hold up very well under the weight of a full grown man and instantly my foot is trying to find purchase on what amounts to an oil slick.
    Down I went, catching my fall ,just as I did hiking in 2007, with my hands and when 190 pounds comes down on hands on uneven surfaces, bad things happen.  This time it was my right hand thumb that bent back in a way nature never intended. 
    This time, there was no blood and it did not turn purple.  Still, as flimsy as my flesh is, I was worried that my right hand would be severely crippled for months and some of the things I like to do most depend heavily on my right hand thumb working well.  Oh, wait.  You people are likely to...  I was talking about WRITING MY MEDICAL BLOG HERE AT SOULCAST.  Shame on you!  I use my right hand thumb for the space bar.  Honestly, I shouldn't have to explain!
    Fortunately, this fall appears to have been little more than an annoyance.  My thumb is virtually perfect working condition after a month and a half.  Of course, in younger days, it might have achieved full function after a week.  It is this kind of sea change in the body's function that leads old men to avoid risks.  I think twice before climbing up on things.  I am facing the trail I hiked in January 2007 with trepidation most men reserve for one of the Himalayas.  I had hiked this same trail as a teenage boy with no more concern than a stroll on the beach.  Part of that was the feeling of foolish indestructibility boys have.  Part of it was that boys that age are, comparatively, indestructible and their foolish risks have far less serious consequences.
    It becomes obvious to me how elderly people who break hips are so often regarded with the same type of horror as those receiving cancer diagnoses.  Like a horse breaking its leg, older folk face long odds of achieving a significant portion of their former mobility.  They spiral the drain.  I'm doing some of the things that I hope will put off such a day, but what type of life is it one leads if one avoids opportunities out of fear?  How much will this preparation allow me to take on these tiny obstacles that present a chance to achieve personal triumph?  To live a full life is requiring increasing amounts of preparation, rehearsal, and wisdom.  I'll keep in touch as one of these falls shy of the required supply.