It was a fairly average day for the fingers on K's hands. They had some fun though playing the recorder with the 1st - 4th graders. With Kindergarten, they danced and slapped Miss K's new Djembe and guided little fingers on the Ukulele to play the C Chord. They even got to do a little more then direct the upper grades in chimes. Little did they know that one of their members was going to have an unexpected adventure that would mean the end to their fun play for an undetermined amount of days.
Upper Grades PE had begun, and the class was going about their fitness stations, when the principal, Miss K's mother, had stuck her head in the gym door to ask a question. With that distraction, as well as a student asking something as well, Miss K's concentration was not specifically on what was happening with her fingers. She had directed them to open the PE Storage closet door, but alas, she left her left hand fingers on their own to navigate the treacherous and dangerous ground of the spring loaded door handle thing. Braving the bully door opening contraption, thumb, first, second and third fingers lifted the latch and turned.
The door handle contraption had for months been trying to get Miss K's fingers at such a vulnerable moment. Having come close on a number of occasions, but only managing to scratch, and once slicing the skin a little, the door must have realized its moment of power. SNAP! The spring loaded handled wrenched from Miss K's fingers, grabbing the ring finger in its metal jaws.
Instant pain sliced through Miss K's hand. Realizing that her finger had been wounded in battle, and worried that she might have actually just lost the tip of her finger, she wrapped her other hand about the pulsing and profusely bleeding digit and ran to the Kitchen. Thankfully, said principal/mother, was only part way down the hall and hearing her daughter's distress came running. It is always amazing how the squeamish are less so in time of need. She got a cup of ice for the sad little finger and rushed to get bandaging.
Roughly bandaging the finger up, Mrs. R., the mother finally let out a little shiver of sqeamy-ness. Now, you would think that K would take the pulse throbbing little finger to get it checked as soon as the kids were gone. That was not to be. NO! There was a guest that had been at the school all day, evaluating the school, and he was planning to meet with all the teachers after school. Having car pooled with mom, K was not able to do so right away. Besides, driving was a little much to handle at the moment. So, for two hours, she sat in a meeting, waited for the principal to finish talking with this guest.
Once in the car, did they make their way over to the clinic? NOPE! "I need to get something to eat before I go anywhere" said mother. Nostrils flaring in response to the pain, Miss K responded, "OK, but lets make it fast".
Home, eat . . . it is now after 7:00 pm by the time they make their way to the urgent care clinic. Getting there, it is a relief to see only a few people. Phew! It shouldn't be a long wait. Sign in, have a seat, wait. And wait. And wait. It is now after 8:30 pm. OW! OW! OW! The ice has mostly melted and there is now a fairly good size wet circle on K's sport wear pants.
"Katherine" Finally, Miss K and her mother head over to the register window. "Oh dear, let me get you a cold pack" the woman at the window says. "Thank you" K looks at her finger and realizes her finger has not finished bleeding. Cold! I want the cold to numb it!
At almost 9, K, her mom, and the poor distressed finger are led back to a room, to wait for the suture room to become available.
Just after 9:00pm, the doctor comes in, an attractive gentleman who is soft spoken, and guides the little troop to the suture room. Carefully, he and K unwrap the little digit that her father had re-wrapped for her at home (a painful, and quiet disgusting experience that is best left unsaid, though T- the lil' bro wanted to get a look, and was quite intrigued). The Doctor gently held the abused hand and examined the bloody, mangled mess. The ring finger was soothed that the doctor was so gentle. It had quivered in fear at the imaginings of a brash doctor at such a late hour.
Proposing what he thought he was going to have to do, "It looks like we will have to remove the severed nail and a few stitches. I would like to have one of our other Doctors check this out as a second opinion before we do though." Shortly two heads, one male, one female are examining, the mess. "You might have to remove the whole nail, says the second doctor". K gulps, and the finger quakes. "Well, it doesn't looked damaged below . . . (medical terms of the skin below the nail)" "Oh yes, I see, let me dab some of this off so . . .(blotting the oozing red liquid) . . . I see what you mean it looks like only the (more medical jargon for the tender tissue that lies beneath the finger nail) is sliced. It will need a couple of stitches. But you will have to remove this detached nail, hopefully it what we can't see yet isn't to badly damaged and can be sutured."
K & her finger were assured when K questioned, that the nail should grow back normally. It will probably have a bump for awhile, a year or so, but it should be ok. There is a possibility that it could grow in a little deformed and it will take years to get back to normal, but . . . (at this point, K is praying that the nail grows back nicely. A bump is ok Lord, but please . . .)
K watched in fascination, once her finger was numbed and put to sleep, while the doctor attempted to suture her mangled finger. (She couldn't watch the removal of the nail, it looked to . . .). Alas, only one suture was successful. The rest of the tissue was so crushed, that it couldn't hold a stitch and thus had to be dressed. Little ring finger now sports the latest fashion of finger protective gear.
Pointer has been getting quite the work out just typing this story. No pictures will be posted of the mangled nail. The thought of having before and after shots didn't occur until after it was all bandaged up. No worries, but here is a picture of her newest fashionable wear. All the other fingers are jealous . . . or that's what they tell ring finger so it doesn't feel so bad.So, any "moral to the story"? Don't leave your fingers own their own when it comes to violent, spring loaded PE door handles.
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