How to destroy a summer in one second

I am not a happy camper...quite literally and in ever sense of those words!!!  To begin with, I think you can all be extremely happy with the fact that I DIDN'T CUSS!! That might be a first for me. 
I'll set the stage.
It is June 21, 7pm at Lake Five and I am the only living person tough enough to brave the water.  It has been raining for 5 days but tonight it is warm with that wonderful heavy air that keep the glassy lake as still as death.  I have already skied around the lake twice and have swam 4 laps.  The lake is just so calm that I think- hey, I could ski again!  I don my gloves and life jacket, and grab my ski.  Stewart has backed the boat up and is swinging the rope around and around, just as he's done a million and 3 times before, preparing to let it go so it can fly to either side of me- almost always within arms reach- yeah, he's that good.   I usually don't even bother to watch because he can throw that rope to the side of me with amazing accuracy- like I said we've done this dance for years and years. For some reason I stood up straight and watched him this time... first mistake.  So there he is- a sort of cowboy rodeo slash water skiing rope twirler of the first order whipping that rope into an eye blurring frenzy-  he let's it go and before I can even react, the thing is headed straight at my head.  In my own defense, you have to realize it takes the rope exactly .00578 seconds to crack my skull open- I realize this too, so also in that split second of time I say to myself holy shizolah, that thing is coming right at me, well, that stinks, so what am I going to do about it.  I could duck but actually I don't think I have time for that. No, there must be a better option.  I do need the rope to be in my hands at some point, may as well kill (no pun intended) two birds with one stone and save a millionth of a second.  It takes more time and energy to bend over and pick up the rope so yeah, that's the solution, I'll just catch the rope that is coming at me with the speed and force of super sonic jet.  So I fling my hands up...second mistake... and BAM! Ouch and no I didn't cuss- honest! Oh ouch ouchie ouch!!! By the way, and be impressed- I did catch the rope- but I didn't hold on to it long.  I could feel huge pain in my left little finger- the same one I broke catching a very short low bad basketball pass.  (stupid girl) I look at it and it's not sticking out at a weird angle like the last time- I don't need to pop it back into place like the last time.  So because I have vasts amounts of knowledge and medical expertise and those are definitely the medical criteria for determining a broken bone, I thinks pfff- well that's good, it's not broken- I've got my stuff on so I'm ski-en!  It's a bit painful trying to put the ski on but I manage.  I hold the rope in my right hand and for a fleeting instant wonder if I could get up one handed...  don't let's be silly! So I firmly grasp the ski handle in both hands- ouch ouchie ouch shoot ouch.  I definitely felt something pop in my hand- right under my little finger. So like the practical careful person I am, I let up on two fingers and yell hit it. More ouchy shoot ouchness but I am up  and I am skiing.  Not my best efforts to cut some rooster tail! This thing is hurting.  I only go around once, darn it.  Back at the trailer I gingerly get dressed, and sit down to put ice on this bad boy.  After a half hour of that I look at it and feel around a bit.  I do not want it to be broken, so in my mind it's not.  Kurt and Stewart think differently- so off to the ER we go- at 9 pm.  Short story long, I show it to the Doc, he takes a few ex-rays and sure enough I have a boxers fracture.  Stangely the doctor walks back in the room and says "I can't believe it, you really did break it."  Hmm really?- that's why I'm here??  Shucks, I just thought we'd spend quality some time together talking about the crappy weather! No shizzzz Sherlock!  5th metacarpal bone broken horizontally under the knuckle.  He want's to know if I want something for pain.  nope.  Just tell me how long before I can ski again.  Six weeks.......SIX WEEKS!!!??? seriously?? I didn't swear-  I did say an F word- but fart is much better than that other word which actually I have only uttered twice in my life and really I don't know where it came from in those instances because I HATE that word!  So fart it was.  And fart it remains.  That Dr. made the mistake of not casing this broken hand.  He half cast it and wrapped it with a tensor bandage with velcro.  hehehe- pfff.... VELCRO! As if I can't escape from velcro!  I am giving it 3 weeks- 19 days to be exact.  Then I shall be skiing again.  Stewart is trying to conjure up and manufacture some kind of harness for one handed skiers that he saw on the internet.  Yeah,  like I want that thing hurtling at me! Nope- I'll just ski like an Englishman drinking tea..pinkies up and very proper and dainty like............NOT!
So yes- Camping this summer will see me with one eyebrow and Stewart will be doing the dishes!  Serves him right!
Here is a picture of the offending hand.  This is at the 1 week mark and counting.  The back of my hand is just yellow- so not as impressive.  I also have a rope handle shaped bruise on my arm.  Stewie may be doing dishes for a long time!