How Can I Type This With A Jammed Finger?

It was Tuesday afternoon. At the neighbors' pool. The deep end had sloped sides down to the bottom. I dove in. I hit the sloped side unsuspectedly I hit my left hand and almost hit my head.
When I came up to the top my middle finger hurt. Really bad. My aunt said to work it a little while. I did but it still hurt. My grandmother said I stoved it. My aunt pointed out that it was jammed, not stoved. Either way, it really hurt. I went home. My finger was turning blueish, then purple. I iced it, but by that time, my finger was the size of a small bouncy ball. It reminded me of my 2-year-old cousin's stomach, the way it bulged out. Today, it was in a splint that mom bought at Eckerds. I am typing as fast as I can with a splinted finger.

I have horrible news. Elvy is in need of plastic surgery. My cousin Moni ripped him off his keychain. All I need is a pair of pliers (Ahem, Father), and I can fix him.

Well. Thats all. I'm done. Sayonara.