I started to put a sheathed five foot long crosscut saw I wasn’t going to use up on a nail hook above me where another saw, unsheathed and without handles, was hanging. I suddenly heard a crash, simultaneously felt a sharp pain in my right hand, and the hanging saw, no longer hanging, was clattering on the floor along with the saw I tried to hang. I looked at my hand.
There was a large, deep gash over the the first joint, the proximal interphalangeal, or PIP, of my ring finger, with blood of varying shades of red, and a white, rectangular spot, obviously bone.
Get help, now, I said to myself. I left the saws where they were, put my left hand over my right with as much pressure as possible to stanch the bleeding, went outside, closed the door using both hands as one, and locked the combination lock, cursing it loudly for not locking the first time.
I got into my car, computing where the nearest urgent care center was, lucky enough to know that it was two miles from me, and I didn’t need my phone to know. I found some Kleenex to cover the wound, replaced my left hand over my right, started the car, and on the first turn past the shed, hit a post with the right fender. I kept going and drove out of the storage area, making three right turns and able to press the combination for the gate with my left hand, hoping the Kleenex would stay put. The gate, of course, seemed to take forever to open, and I had to make a fourth right turn to head north to the four lane highway. A fifth turn took me to Main Street in Springfield where I arrived at the urgent care center I had last used five years earlier when the handle of a tipping wheelbarrow caught and laid open my left forearm. I was able to tell the receptionist at urgent care that they had a record of me, and quickly a nurse brought some gauze to put over my wound. A few minutes later, still sitting at check in, a man came out, looked at my wound, where again I clearly saw the bone, and told me that he couldn’t deal with it and recommended my going to one of two hospitals, McKenzie-Willamette being the closest and probably the quietest this Sunday evening.
Before I left, the nurse wrapped my hand so at least I was able to drive with two separate hands and able to get to the hospital. The emergency department was fortunately quiet, and I was Xrayed, my wound sutured, and I left about an hour later. I was told that my extensor tendon was OK, but thinking back I didn’t have my extensor tendon tested adequately which requires the finger to be flexed at the first joint and then pushed out against that. I had hoped that there wasn’t going to be a tendon injury, but when I later looked at the anatomy of the hand, I knew that my extensor tendon had to have been sliced. And indeed, over the next several days I had gradual flexing of the right index finger with no ability to straighten it, and great deal of swelling, which eventually subsided. I thought I could get away without seeing an orthopedist, but when I saw the finger deformity, I knew it had to be attended to, and I made an appointment. I was hoping I could be seen sooner but waited five days at which time I had a 60° deformity with clearly no extension of the PIP joint. I was lucky and was able to have surgery scheduled three days later. Because the way wound appeared, with some redness, I was placed on antibiotics as well.
I call six week periods where I am off work for the various fractures and other problems I have suffered 1000 hour trials (the exact number of hours is 1008), but here there will be an additional six weeks of progressive strengthening. I was fortunate that the saw didn’t cut my finger off, hit the dorsum of my hand and sever all the tendons, or lacerate either the radial or ulnar arteries. My initial emotions were being bummed and angry, the former because I wouldn’t be able to do an upcoming logout, the latter that the saw that fell was hung without a sheath and the supporting nail broke off. I would be sidelined this autumn the way I was the prior year, when I had radiation therapy to my pelvis. Over time, my emotions changed to optimism, dealing with each day as it came and looking forward to what I would be able to do. The emotions of feeling worthless and angry faded, not completely gone, but no longer major. This was the first time I really tried to define my emotions specifically and I think it was helpful in my dealing with this injury. I can’t turn back the clock, but I can control my future.
Boreal B[l]og 
Leave a comment