For Part One of this trilogy CLICK HERE
Upon discovery of my gruesome injury I was driven promptly to the emergency room where on my arrival I had to explain my accident to the nurse.
Me: I sat on my hand getting into a van and my finger popped open
Nurse: *glares at me with utter disbelief* It really is better for all of us if you tell us the truth
Me: … I fucking sat on my fucking hand getting into a fucking van and my fucking finger fucking popped open”…
Clearly I was not coping too well with the whole situation. After repeating my story no less than 3 times I was finally admitted and began the wait for a Doctor to have a look.
It is hard to read a Doctors reaction at the best of times but this Doc was visibly taken back by what he was seeing… he was an emergency room doctor with over 10 years experience and he couldn’t understand what he was looking at… “Huh? That’s interesting” …very reassuring…
With the wound being (what used to be) the tip of my finger and bleeding so profusely, local anesthetic was not an option. The Doctor began by pulling the nail out entirely (from the top knuckle) with what looked to me to be an ordinary pair of toolbox pliers. If I didn’t already think that the idea of pulling nails as torturous I had now experienced it first hand, literally. It hurts. A lot.
Once the nail was gone he revealed a big black plastic bag. He tore it open to reveal a wooden spoon sized Q-tip that began smoking soon as it was exposed to the air, like some sadistic medieval interrogation tool . The Doctor pushed the drooping flesh back around the bone and used the giant smoking stick to cauterize the wound… the smell was atrocious (the thought of it still makes me gag).
My finger, still smoking, was wrapped up in bandages till it was the size of a cricket ball. I was given a handful of really good painkillers & sent on my way with instructions to keep it elevated and see a doctor in a few days to redress the wound.
I got home, took a few of my really, really good pills and crashed.
When i woke up I was in a blood bath… literally. And I don’t mean literally, like “I could literally eat a horse” I mean literally like my sheets were drenched and there was a good inch or so pooled on the bed. The bandages had bled through during the night and let me looking like an extra from Carrie.
Find out how I ended up in next weeks exciting conclusion. Same ginge time. Same ginge channel.
