Broken Fingers, Broken Plans: ADHD, Scooters, and Executive Functioning Gone Rogue
I’d like to tell you I broke my fingers doing something epic. Scaling a cliff face, maybe. Winning a boxing match. Saving a cat from a tree.
But no.
I broke them on a scooter. Because ADHD.
Here’s the scene: light rain, a cheeky breeze, my phone buzzing in my back pocket, thoughts running laps in my head. Too many inputs. And like every good ADHD cliché, I got distracted, took one hand off… and tumbled. My fingers bent backwards in ways that should only happen in horror films. Cue: me, on the ground, crying from that sharp, deep, primal pain.
Now I’ve got two broken fingers and a neon pink splint that will be my sidekick for the next six weeks.
The Real Crash: Executive Functioning
The thing is, the pain was bad. Really bad. But what floored me most wasn’t the throbbing fingers—it was the mental crash.
Executive functioning is like the project manager of your brain. It helps you plan, sequence, prioritise, and juggle the “how-to” of life. For ADHD brains, that project manager is often… under-resourced, let’s say. And when something unexpected throws a spanner in the works—like suddenly losing the use of one hand—the whole system gridlocks.
That first 48 hours? Brutal.
Toilet logistics, pulling pants up, drying myself after a shower, doing my hair, opening a jar—every tiny action required its own mini strategy meeting in my head. And every single thing I did created a traffic jam of “Wait, how do I do this now? With one hand? While balancing? Without crying?”
It wasn’t just inconvenient. It was exhausting. My brain was working overtime just to get me through basic human functions.
What I Learned (besides “don’t get cocky on a scooter”)
Once I figured out some one-handed systems, things got easier. The traffic jam cleared, but the fatigue lingered. And it left me with this loud reminder:
ADHD is real. Even at 46. Even medicated. Even when you think you’ve got it “managed.”
Distraction is real. Sometimes it’s wind, rain, a buzzing phone, and runaway thoughts that gang up on you all at once.
Executive functioning is real. And when it gets knocked off balance, it takes every ounce of energy to recalibrate.
So yes, I broke my fingers in a way that was ridiculous enough to make a TikTok cautionary tale. But the real story is this: ADHD brains are juggling more than meets the eye. And when life throws a curveball (or a scooter crash), that hidden workload gets very, very visible.
For now, me and my hot pink splint are slowing down. One-handed typing, lots of patience, and an ongoing reminder that “managing ADHD” isn’t about eliminating challenges. It’s about adapting—sometimes with grace, sometimes with tears, and sometimes with a little neon plastic flair.