Grabbing on to a basketball post that had been shorn off. It didn't do much damage... just an abrasion, but a blood blister swelled in the midst of my palm.
Tonight, I tucked Charlie into bed, and complained briefly to him about the blister. I realized how silly it was for me to be complaining about this slight injury, while he has almost no use of his hand, cannot hold a pencil or a fork.
And he looked at me and said "but it hurts" and forgave me my.... no, understood... no, still felt for me that regardless of what his own physical state is, that my hand hurt.
