Friday, November 13, 2009
I was working in the yard yesterday, trying to wrestle a section of privacy fence into place. I lost control of it and one of the many old rusty nails in it punctured my right hand. Eesh! My eyes crossed looking at the hole right before it started bleeding. That was a big nail! Look at the hole it made! Better get inside and clean it up, maybe dump some hydrogen peroxide on it and see how I feel about it then.
So I am washing it and I give it a good splash of the ol' peroxide. I am thinking I would like it to bleed a little more, you know to get the dirty blood out. (Why do we think like that?) I decide to squeeze the pad below my thumb, where the wound is, to make it bleed some. When I squeezed it, some kind of white grissely stuff poked out! Kind of like I had popped some colossal zit on my hand. I get a paper towel to wipe it away and I dragged it out further! It was attached and part of my hand - only now it was outside instead of inside where it belonged.
That's it! I'm going to the ER. I probably need a shot for the rusty nail anyway.
After I checked myself in, the doctor comes in to take a look. "That's your fat!" he says, pointing at my hand and identifying the strange protrusion. "Thanks", I said. "Good to know I am carrying around so much that some of the guys tried to make a run for it."
He washed it and gently poked everything back where it belongs. Now it's time to close the wound. He reaches over to his little assortment of supplies and picks up a common band-aid. "No stitches?" Then he gives me this look that says "There, there, Mr. Anderson. Doctor make it all better" as he pressed the band-aid in place.
I think leaving with a band-aid is the highest form of insult from the ER. I did get the tetanus shot though. Lessons learned.