Saturday, May 5, 2012

Oops! Ouch!

 It's a rock. Not just any rock. It's THE rock. Some people don't like this rock. This rock sent me to Urgent Care, who sent me to the ER, who admitted me to the hospital and said I needed a hand surgeon... Really? My world went from ho, hum everyday to surgery in a matter of an evening.

All because I was doing what I normally do in the spring time. I was putzing around in my garden. See the little agave pup sprouting to the right of the rock? It's a Shark agave offspring. I was excited to find it but worried that I would ho it down like I've done to it's siblings in my aggressive manner of weeding.

To protect my little baby, I picked up the rock to move it next to the pup as a marker. The problem was, I fell down on my driveway. I went down, the rock followed and used my finger as a launching pad.

I thought I only tore the finger nail off. I rushed to the kitchen to run water over the wound. the Chicklet helped get some bandages and off to urgent care I went. This accident is the only time I regret driving  a stick shift... Urgent Care couldn't do much except soak my finger, numb it, take an x-ray and send me to the ER.

I went home, gathered up the Chicklet to drop her off at friends. I figured it was going to be an all nighter in the ER. I was still wondering where the rock had ended up. I found it across the driveway. Some launch...

The ER doc took one look at my finger and re-wrapped it. It was surgery for me. I was one big wuss. I think they put me on an IV to replace all the fluids I lost bawling. The drugs were doing their thing. My finger wasn't hurting at all.
Here I am,  in my hospital room. I've had the pleasure of being a guest of Good Samaritan before. When I gave birth to the Chicklet. Otherwise, I've never been in one. Never broken a bone, never visited the ER, never had surgery. I managed to cross those three off my "Firsts" list in a 24 hour period.
My sister asked for pictures of my finger. I was going to have them do it 5 days after the surgery when the surgeon checked my progress. Instead I just cried and put the camera way. I wasn't ready. It took over a week to be able to bear the sight of my finger. Blood doesn't freak me out. I'm not concerned about my hands being scarred. (I never had pretty hands). Looking at my finger reminded me how quickly everything can change. It reminds me how vunerable I can be.

This wasn't what I had in mind when I thought about losing some weight. I lost the tip of the finger. The nail was saved. No sense getting into manicures now.

Manuevering has been ackward and managing the pain has improved. It's slowed me down but it wasn't going to hold me back. Painted some papers and made a gorgeous book for our principal who's retiring. It was relief to be able to produce.

My next appointment with the surgeon is this week. I'm going to ask when I can start swimming. The school year is almost over and my back fin is getting "the itch." Who would have thought that one finger could create such a mess? I am grateful it was only one finger and it wasn't the nose picker, either!

1 comment:

  1. Diablo mujer! This is one time I wish your pictures weren't so clear- Ay Dios Mio, my face is stil scrunched up in pain.

    Glad it's not stopping you and wishing you a speedy recovery.