Fingers

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    Oh man, this was not good.  Not only did it hurt like heck, there was blood everywhere and I couldn’t find two fingers.  I had been told not to use the chop-saw without adult supervision.  I was probably going to be in a bit of trouble when this was discovered.  I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be able to hide this.  Dang,

    I found a relatively clean rag and wrapped it around my hand in hopes of stemming the substantial blood flow.  Then I went and got a bowl of ice water and proceeded to search for the second and third digits (in layman’s terms known as the index and middle finger), the second digit (index finger) had not gone far, it was right behind the saw, other than not being attached to my hand it appeared to be in pretty good shape, a little pale perhaps.

    The third digit must have managed to crawl a ways because I was having a difficult time finding it.  Eventually it turned up behind the workbench, on the floor amidst the spider webs and spiders.  It had never really thought much about spiders being carnivorous.  But, the point was really driven home in this instance.  Picking up my third digit and brushing the spider webs and spiders off I added it to my second digit in the bowl of ice water.  It didn’t look quite as nice as the second digit.  I never have really liked spiders all that much.

    Then my wife arrived home from grocery shopping.  She wasn’t very happy and I was in more than a bit of trouble.  She even made me clean up the blood when we got home from the emergency room.

@#%&*@#%&*@#%&*@#%&*@#%&*@#%&*

    A few months later after everything had been sewn, pinned and Elmer’s™ glued back together.  The casts and splints were removed and most of my hand seemed to work rather well.  There were some very nice, angry looking scars and my second digit worked very well.  It was flexible and could be bent and pointed with very little effort.  No little hard balls of mucous were going to escape now.

    My third digit however was a different matter entirely, it was frozen solid, straight as an angry wife.  No matter how hard I tried it wasn’t going to move.  The doctor was somewhat apologetic, but it was what he had been expecting so it was not really a great surprise to either of us.

    I was a bit concerned, I could see where this was going to make some aspects of my life a bit more difficult, for instance twist off bottle caps were going to be a challenge.  I decided I better carry an opener at all times.  On the other hand (no pun intended), certain aspects of life would be much easier, sort of like a built in excuse, ‘Oh, no officer I am sorry, see this finger doesn’t bend’.

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