Saturday, 27 August 2011

Ouch, dammit.

Remember when I decided to sue my best friend (and her cottage dock) for causing me undue hardship and emotional distress? Not to mention compensation for the physical damage that results from the amputation of a left hand?

Well the stakes just got WAY higher.


Yeah. That’s my hand. Rather, what’s left of my hand. I finally got the damn dock shrapnel extracted yesterday, and that, up there, is the result.

Despite the fact my infection seemed to subside as my flesh healed last week, the foreign particle continued to fester. It was only a matter of time before surgery became necessary. This is the kind of wound that KILLED people not that long ago, folks. I could have DIED.

I asked Hubby if he would donate his hand to me in the event that mine could not be saved. He thought carefully and then asked: left or right? Left, obviously. I don’t want two right hands. Well, that wouldn’t do because his left hand is his guitar chord hand. In fact, I couldn’t have either hand, because he needs both. So he offered me his foot instead.

Um, thanks?

So off I went to my doctor’s office to drain yet another 45 minutes of publically funded physician salary from our health system. Luckily my lovely doctor had no intention of causing me harm – bring on the numbing serum! Only, I don’t know if anyone has ever driven a sharp needle – filled with numbing serum or otherwise – into the palm of your hand, but it hurts like a motha.

At least after the needle struggle, my palm and fingers just felt fat and tingly. I could feel her cutting and digging around in there, but I refused to look. At one point I had to ask if that was rubbing alcohol or hot blood dripping down my wrist. Apparently I didn’t want to know the answer to that question.

She eventually found the enemy buried in my flesh. It wasn’t as deep as she expected. Really? So why did you carve me open like that? It seems she wanted to “make sure we got it all".

Oh… um, ok…

She showed me the offender. Imagine a very small, but very sharp, cat claw covered in blood. Ew. But I feel do much better having the little effer extracted. And I’ll look forward to having the two stitches removed next week.

Until then, that picture may become my screensaver. 

_

15 comments:

  1. that sounds awful.... here's hoping for a speedy recovery. I wouldn't want it to be a hinder for future blog posts!

    though.. you did this one just fine (I'm assuming) so apparently I'm on crack.

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  2. eek! that looks & sounds painful! how kind of your hubby to offer you his foot.

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  3. Look at you and your battle wounds!
    BADASS!

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  4. Urrgghhh... I've seen WAY too many stitches in my time. I hate them with the passion of one thousand burning suns. But I'm glad you got it taken care of, and that you'll be all better soon :)

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  5. Damn girl! Does this give you street cred now. I'd hate to cross paths with you in a dark alley for fear that you might put a cap in my ass.

    I wonder what the eff we would be doing in a dark alley though.... ;) xo

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  6. chemgirl - I did manage to type this but it was with great effort, I'll have you know!

    Sherilin - Yeah, "kind", right. Dick pickle. (Him, not you!)

    Sarcasm - Yes! I AM badass! Watch out!

    Ang - This is my first set of stiches! Except when I was a baby, but that doesn't count because I can't remember it. I am NOT a fan.

    Elle - Street cred! Ha!

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  7. I'm so glad you'll survive this injury...I don't think I could take it if you didn't.

    Now that you don't need it...it's safe for me to say I would've given you my left hand.

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  8. Eww. I'd never survive stitches in my hand. I'd probably throw up just looking at it. I'm not good with battle wounds.

    Although, that numbing stuff sounds nice. I could have used that when I was little...my whole house has wood floors, so splinters were inevitable. The only thing worse than having small pieces of sharp wood driven into the bottom of your foot was having your mother go after said wood with a needle and pair of tweezers. Apparently screaming "OUCH!" and trying to yank your foot away was just an excuse for her to jam the needle farther into your foot. Ah, childhood...

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  9. Congratulations on getting the rest removed! Stitches are awesome. Just don't pick at them unless you want your hand innards falling all over the place.
    Holy crap, Marianna. We continue to have more in common. Except my little operation was on my foot. And it was at home when I was 7 and there was no benefit of numbing agents. And you didn't mention anyone covering your mouth with a pillow to muffle your screams. Oh that's right, you had anesthetic. And I'm sure your doc used an actual medical tool, not a pocket knife.... it's becoming clear to me now that your story is an actual medical story and mine just sounds like child abuse. *raises eyebrow* Hm.
    Excuse me while I go call my therapist... MelMelForLife, are we related??? I should really read all the other comments before posting mine... we just basically told the same story. I suck.

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  10. You're a lot braver than I am. I probably would've let the damn thing fester in my hand cause my dad had to get stitches on his finger once & said it hurt worse than when the darn finger was almost cut off :/

    Glad it's out & at least now you have a pretty awesome battle scar to show off.

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  11. hot dripping blood AND rubing alcohol.

    Mmmm mmm.

    Glad you survived... sounded like it was close...

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  12. *rubbing.

    Not sure what rubing alcohol is. Maybe involves a Rubik's Cube?

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  13. jacqui - You never know. I might still fade.

    Mel - Ha! Wow, how rough were your wood floors? I like the sound of your mom though.

    Jo - No numbing agents?! That's the best part!

    Lin - Battle scar! Yes!

    StephanieC - Rubing alcohol is what Rubin from American idol drank when he realized American Idol is a sham. ;)

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  14. That's got to be one helluva inconvenient place to have sutures.

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