Somewhere between Beth and I walking through the townhome we
bought last fall and signing on the dotted line to “pay for it,” for the next
30 years, I didn’t read anything about bodily harm in the fine print, when
doing the remodeling we eventually talked ourselves into. Over the last 6 months, I’ve inflicted small
nicks, cuts, bruises, and other curse bearing moments, but in the final stages
of the remodel, while working on the half bath…it happened. A split second was the difference between stopping
for a lunch break or a visit to the E.R. That split second took off the “meaty” part
at the end of my middle finger on my left hand.
I won’t get into the details, but this event involved the walnut plywood
I was intending to join together to form a small box that would make up a “floating”
vanity, with a vessel sink to top it off and a really sharp drill bit!
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| The vanity, as it sits in limbo. Yes ,I did work on it a few days after said incident. |
In the ensuing moments after this woodworking faux pas, I am
not sure if I was in shock, as in the complete medical sense of the word, but
as time slipped by, it seemed as if I was watching it happen to someone
else. The pain was mine, and real, but I
just kept thinking of how much worse it could have been. That kept everything in perspective and
doable, as I grabbed my finger, and my sister to drive me to the E.R. Beth diverted the route she was on to join us
at the hospital and we sat and waited to see what damage I had done. That afternoon in the E.R., I could not stop
thinking about how my wound, compared to real trauma, seemed so
insignificant. How do people with real
“pain” get through it?
Somewhere between getting what I feared would become
bedsores on my butt (from waiting) and the posing for the portable x-ray
machine (which showed there was no damage to any bones or ligaments…yea!), my
finger achieved a state of nirvana with the help of some awesome drug that
locally numbed it, along with any plans to finish the vanity soon.
Fast-forward two and a half weeks from that moment of pain
and disbelief to now and I am writing about it.
This is not to share my pain
and stupidity, but to bear witness to what an incredible vessel our souls
reside in. Yes, the pictures below are
gross and should not be viewed while eating breakfast (disclaimer), but they
are a timeline/pictorial of the healing process of what seemed at the time as such
a ghastly wound. I still have a ways to
go and who knows about any numbness that may prolong, but each day I am amazed
by what I see and some days feel. The
body is an incredible entity. If only I
had thought out a few more things in the moments leading up to the idea I had,
thinking…”Oh, this might work…”
Below are a serious of finger photos that show the healing from a bad thought.
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| In the E.R. 30 minutes from rippage! |
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| At home that evening, changing the bandage. |
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| After week 1. |
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| After week 2. |
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| Today. See how the skin has filled in from the outside toward the center? |
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| What? I'm just showing you my bandage. |
Made ya look!
My Zen from the E.R.: I'm not sure what constitutes an emergency in an Emergency Room. While checking in, while holding my bloody finger, I gave my personal info 3 different times, to 3 different people, using 3 different computers. Not sure how long it was before actual treatment was applied, but I'm sure it would not be described as..."within minutes." But you know what? I was taken care of and I'm healing faster than was described to me. And evidently emergencies are obviously relative! I'll take this one any day...despite "the look" from the last photo.
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