It Was Only a Partial Amputation–Not to Worry

When you drink and slice, be prepared to suffer the consequences.

I’ve been to emergency again. Come on, it had been since December so don’t judge me. The reason I tell you this is that this is a lesson for all of you. I LOVE YOU. THAT IS WHY I DO THIS.

Picture it. White wine. Sharp knife. Round root vegetable. Part of my body was disposed of in the trash.

Moral of the story: If you drink too much white wine in the heat and then decide to slice slippery, round sweet potatoes, it will not end well. Your finger end that is.

The good news is that my extensive criminal record of touching things with my left pointer finger and leaving my fingerprints all over doors and elevators worldwide can officially be expunged. I have been dying to use the word expunged and I am planning on using it extensively in this post. If you are expungefobic, I suggest you come back next time. I will expunge this one visit from the record and you can move on. For those of you still with me, say the word expunge out loud and tell me it is not fun to say? Say it with me, expunge. Fun!

I should have gone to emergency that night. I mean, the blood was insane. Like, pouring out of me. Because of the wine and because we are 25 minutes from the nearest hospital it seemed unreasonable to call an ambulance for a cut finger, even if it was partially missing. Skipping ahead, my medical chart calls it a ‘partial amputation.’ I am pretty proud of that.

Back to the story. I dressed the wound several times that night and even found a finger condom in the first aid kit to wear overnight to not ruin the bed sheets. Good news is I made lemonade, not literally because that would have stung pretty bad, and taught Shaggy which way to put a condom on a finger. Life skill y’all. Oh, and I think the scars for him are even more real than mine.

If you are squeamish, expunge yourself now.

The dressing with the fancy condom was a bad idea. It all stuck to the wound. Well, not the condom, that would be weird. To redress it, I had to rip it off. I couldn’t get the bleeding under control so I poured a coffee and had some breakfast. Finally, I headed out to emerg holding my hand above my head like I finally knew the answer to that trig question in grade 12 that I never did get. I was pretty sure I hadn’t been to this particular emergency department but they had me on file so I was forced to vaguely recall being there for an ear infection four years ago. Good times.

Murphy showed up and the bleeding had stopped by the time the doctor saw me. Seems I hit an artery, which explains the bleeding. No skin left to stitch so I got a super big bandage to make my visit seem worthwhile and make me look like I was very pensive and pointing at things requiring some esoteric thought. I was sent on my way and told to redress it in two days. My spidey senses told me to insist that the nurse put Polysporin on the wound before she dressed it. She told me that the dressing was ‘stick proof.’ I forgot to ask what kind of sticks she meant, but it appears she meant the kind on trees, which wasn’t as relevant in the conversation we were having. Thus, the confusion.

It stuck again. This time, every time I tried to remove it, I felt like I was going to pass out or puke. This time, Mister woke up Daphne early on her second day of summer holidays to come with me to the hospital. Super fun. I was triaged quickly and had my finger in sterile water for more than 2 hours without the dressing moving. The nurse finally stuck my finger in an envelope of vaseline and the doctor told me he was going to freeze my finger to remove the dressing. He had on the ‘shit, I hate my job’ face when he said it. When he went to go look at what he was dealing with, he accidentally expunged my finger from its envelope and expunged the dressing leaving an indelible impression of the dressing pattern on the open wound. I would like to say that I didn’t flinch, scream or look at the doctor with venom. But, I can’t say that. I am going to say expunge again to insert some fun.

The nurse came in to dress the wound and tried to put the stick-proof dressing on it. After I told her I would not be in any forests and I would like the other type of dressing, she gave me the same, ‘shit, I hate my job’ face the doctor did. She needed to say expunge, but that didn’t work for her. She must have had a tough childhood.

I finally insisted that the nurse listen to me and put something goopy on my finger. She rolled her eyes and did it. So far, we are healing. Me, Shaggy, Daphne, my finger. There is still a part of my body in a landfill somewhere. I regret that I didn’t put it in the compost, because saving the world should have been a priority. It should always be a priority. I blame the wine.

So, let that be a lesson to you. Unless you are planning to expunge part of your body in the compost, make that two lessons, don’t drink and slice.


Comments

  1. Sowwy bout u fingur. When my Hubby sliced the tip of his off in the lawnmower he was passing out and shit, so it sounds like you are a toughie. It would have been really cool to plant the appendage with your tomatoes or something. Next time.
    halfa1000miles recently posted…Online Trivia Contest with a Prize and ShitMy Profile

  2. It sounds stupid to say it now, but couldn’t you have brought the missing piece with you to the ER for them to sew it back on? That’s what they do in all the t.v. movies. Do you still have a fingernail? Why hasn’t Mister kept you away from sharp objects yet? I’m so sorry for this new ER visit. Even when you make them sound funny, it’s still the ER! Does this get you out of cooking for the next week or so? Silver lining!

    • Not stupid. Totally something I should have thought of–but, wine. Fingernail intact, Mister delegated chopping to Daphne for a bit, but the whining got a bit much to handle, so I’m back 🙂 The number of times I’ve been to ER, it always makes me laugh.

  3. Well I am decidedly NOT liking this post. Kristine! This is god-awful. Should I shame you some more for not getting immediately to the hospital? Have you learned your lesson? My goodness. I’m really kerfuffled here. Are you okay???? Is your finger permanently disabled?

  4. Geez. You’d think after more than two hours of the stick-proof dressing clearly demonstrating the contradiction of its own name, the staff might have learned a thing or two about MAYBE DON’T USE THAT ALONE AGAIN ON A DECAPITATED FINGER.

    Unless they just really enjoy your company and are trying to find a reason for you to come back every day. In which case wary of sabotage until your fingertip respawns. Who knows what lengths these people will go to to keep you around?

    Meanwhile, it seems they can never expunge me fast enough. “Oh, I see you dressed this yourself at home? Wow, great job, keep up the good work!” *smoothly replaces my own original bandage work over harpoon wound while politely shoving me out the door*
    Spoken Like A True Nut recently posted…It’s the first day of summer. Feliz Navidad!My Profile

    • I am quite charming in emerg, with all my stick jokes and expungement, so it is a real possibility they just want a bit more of me even with less of me* to offer.
      *Remember to weigh myself before next amputation in case I can say, “At least I lost 2 pounds.” Damn, that is some large finger!

  5. I’ve always adored the word expunge! Here are some other fun words that you will be dealing with for awhile – granulating and epithelizing. The words you want to stay away from would be sloughy and necrotic. You might also want to stay away from the ER for awhile.

    PS — I did the exact same thing when I was a young teenager. I can’t remember what I was cutting at the time, but I sliced the entire tip of my thumb off. My sister (two years older) drove me to the ER, as our parents weren’t home. When we got home, my parents were waiting — and they were LIVID. In our panic, we had forgotten about our baby brother, who was asleep upstairs and had left him home alone. Not even my mangled thumb could save us.
    Jana recently posted…Don’t Worry, Be HappyMy Profile

  6. “How you jump —
    Trepanned veteran,
    Dirty girl,
    Thumb stump.”
    -from “Cut” by Sylvia Plath

    Just a little poetry there for your incident. I’m glad you’re okay in spite of severing a vessel. And glad you weren’t using one of those mandolin slicers. This could have been so much worse.
    And perhaps it’s a sign of how you’re maturing. In college the lesson was “Beer before liquor, never sicker”. Now it’s “Slice before wine and you’ll be fine.” Or “Drink before peeling and you’ll be reeling”. Or “Cutting before sips, don’t lose any tips.”
    Christopher recently posted…Me And My Smart Shadow.My Profile

  7. The opening three paragraphs were very dramatic. I enjoyed reading the rest of the post too once I regained consciousness. I mean, helpful a person though I know you are, sometimes it’s simply better not to give out tips.

    Incidentally, I’d just like to confirm that you really did not know the answer to that trig question in grade 12. I only raise the issue because I happen to know from your previous post that you were a straight A student (apart from in baseball-player soldering).
    Bun Karyudo recently posted…My Smartphone Is Too Smart by HalfMy Profile

  8. Finger condom, you say? Huh. I must have missed that day in Sex Ed, because I did NOT know my man’s little swimmers could shoot out from under his fingernails. No wonder we’re having problems getting preggers…
    Bekah Rigby recently posted…Apparently, Colostomy Bags Do Not Double As Sex Toys…My Profile

  9. Hi, Fab blog! I am still in the very early stages – 4 months old. Just making efforts to link in with fellow bloggers.

  10. Ouch! I do get squeamish and I was like okay, if I read fast enough, would I have to say expunge or would my skin stop crawling? Lesson learnt – Don’t Drink and Slice. Finger condom…that has given me evil thoughts about certain appendages being of a certain size.

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