You’d think with a special needs son who has had dozens of surgeries and procedures that I would be used to doctors, wounds, et al. I thought I would be… I was wrong.
Take Monday. Sick and emotional Monday following a tiff that caused me to be tense and overly emotional when it came time to cook dinner. Add potatoes and a knife and slamming both down in the sink… and my finger/hand getting in the way. Here enters the scream, the flood of tears and flow of blood as the pain revealed what just happened.
I knew the cut was deep, but I’ve been cut before; I’m used to it. The fact that it bled for hours let me know it might be serious; the fact that I was still feeling ill and I had my son to take care of made me play down in my head the seriousness of the injury. The fact that I lost movement in my finger told me I shouldn’t do that.
The next morning after sending my son off to school, Geoff took me to the ER where I sat in pain for several hours waiting to be seen. Ironically, after waiting for so long, once they did see me, I was lectured for not getting in sooner. They said it looked like I cut through a tendon and I needed surgery within 7 -10 days of the injury. Unfortunately since I don’t have insurance, they have to send me to another hospital, which by then it was close to Jonathon getting out of school and they had me stoned out of my mind on Hydrocodone (half does the trick, they gave me two). It wasn’t a good high; it was a sick to my stomach, can’t see straight, gravity fought with my legs kind of high… low. Any way, my day was spent.
They cleaned the wound, wrapped my hand in a splint and gave me instruction to go to another ER in another city first thing the next morning.
The first thing the next morning I went per instructed and oddly found myself in a nicer hospital with more competent staff and a quick being seen time (JPS in Ft. Worth- the lesser hospital was HEB Texas Health Harris Methodist). They again lectured about waiting so long and then got additionally annoyed with HEB for sending me away without stitching me up or giving me a tetanus shot.
The better place gave me a shot, aggravated my wound by rubbing numbing solution inside it and giving me stitches, they did a few x-rays before and after wrapping it and said I had cut through a couple tendons. Surgery to have them reattached is next Thursday.
How I do in the whole ordeal? I screamed and wanted to strangle the doctor when I got my wittle finger temporarily mended. My mind kept imagining my tendons sliding down my arm and I kept visualizing the opened wound nearly ever second of the first 72 hours after it happened. I am a big baby.
I am also annoyed that the stupid accident cost me a week of work so far and further struggles in caring for my son. His body and needs don’t care that my hand is injured- I have had to learn to carrying him, change him and feed him with one good limb. I think I pretty much have it mastered.
Secondary things I’m trying to master… using the mouse with my left hand and typing with seven fingers (two on my right and five on the left). My hair is another thing all together, I think I should just chop it all off for now.
Lessons learned other than not starting tiffs when not feeling well and hormones are on over drive… order out.
The other lesson is to not try to gain sympathy from Jonathon. He has gone through way too much to give it. He does tell me to be careful, but then also recounts all his surgeries and surgeries gone awry to make me feel like a wimp about my injury. Thankfully I am reminded about his fits and screaming when he has to go get a shot or even blood work. His operations they have to keep him sedated for days after just so he doesn’t freak… and for the pain to be much tolerable. Yes he’s a champion and hella tough, but I have to remind him that needles freak him out too and pain is not desired.
So I am writing this to get used to typing and hopefully life will resume as normal (with being a lefty for a couple months).
The tragedy of the situation is the Angry Birds level I’m on (and antibiotics that make me dizzy) for now I can’t seem to aim and target the Space Bird adequately to get three stars. Until I can play properly I’m just going to pretend the cats are green pigs and fling the little Angry Birds at them. The challenge is to get the cats to stay under makeshift shelters made out of wood, concrete, and ice.
The triumph of the situation is that I’m no longer a stitches virgin. The doctor asked me, “Have you ever had stitches before?” I replied honestly, “No, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t need them.” (I avoid going in at almost all cost).