At every pause, please insert the dramatic DAH-Dun from law and order
Sunday 8:00 A.M.- I climb out of bed, at peace with the world, and shuffle off for hot coffee
Sunday 1:30 P.M.- It s time to change the dressing on my finger. It has been 2 weeks and I am also going to pull the stitches.
Sunday 1:32 P.M.- Unwrapped the finger and pulled the first stitch. Wound opened up immediately and clear fluid came out. Looked at my finger and got pissed off. No blood, no pink, just pale. Looks like I ‘m screwed and my finger is going to rot off.
Sunday 1:35 P.M.- Inform the wife that my finger is going to rot off and I am going to the E.R. Get more pissed off and drive to the drug store for bandages.
Sunday 1:45 P.M.- Come home and re-bandage the finger. Get more pissed off, drive to the store and get a pack of smokes. I already have 2 so I don’t need more, but for some reason driving places makes me feel better.
Sunday 1:55 P.M.- Decide to go to the E.R. which is in another town about 15 miles away.
Sunday 1:57 P.M.- Get in the car with the wife. She is pissed off because she has been after me for a week to go to a doctor and now my finger is going to rot off and she has to sit in the E.R. for 12 Hrs. while they cut more of my finger off.
Sunday 2:20 P.M.- We arrive at the E.R.. I am pissed because we are at the E.R.. A fight ensues in the parking lot. I tell her to take my happy ass home because I am not going in. She insists that I am. Like hell. She sees that I am going to bail from the vehicle and floors it….Too late!
Sunday 2:21 P.M. – I’m free
Sunday 2:22 P.M.- I’m walking home. I’m so pissed off that I barely feel the piece of broken glass that’s been in my foot for 3 weeks or the throbbing of my finger.
Sunday 3:40 P.M.- I managed to make 5 miles. I duck into a store to get some OJ and run into a guy that I do business with. He gives me a lift all the way home. I like him.He is a good guy.
Sunday 3:55 P.M.- Home sweet home. I’m locked out. I left the keys in the truck when I bailed. No problem. There’s a shovel in the pack of my pick up. Pry open a window and climb through.
Sunday 3:57- Home sweet home.
Sunday 3:58 P.M.- While knowing that booze will not help my finger, I also know that it won’t hurt it. Pour a drink. Wife comes home. We don’t even fight about it. The only person in the world more bull headed than her is myself.
Monday 10:00 A.M- Wife shows up at work. Doctor time.
Monday 11:30- A.M. Doctor is looking at my finger. He is totally unimpressed. He doesn’t even give me the “You poor bastard look” He says it’s fine, pulls the stitches and re-ups the anti-biotic scrip. Doesn’t look or feel healed, but his lack of concern makes me feel better.
Tuesday 12:00 P.M.- Time to change the dressing. Maybe this will be the last time. I am greeted by shock and horror. What was dry and maybe healing is now mush. The skin flap that was stitched over it is gone. I won’t finish with the description, suffice it to say that it was not what I wanted to see.
Tuesday 12:01- P.M Panic!
Tuesday 12:02 -P.M. Stop panicking. Decide to bandage it so it will get air and dry out.
Tuesday 12:03-P.M. Panic! One of those stories that Dad told me about gas gangrene just popped into my head. Plus, someone I know just died a few weeks ago from flesh eating bacteria. Flesh eating Bacteria! Panic!
Tuesday 12:04 P.M.- Stop panicking. Time to go back to work.
Tuesday 6:00 P.M.- Unwrap the finger and look at it. It is dry now and looks much less gruesome than it did.
Tuesday 11:oo P.M.- Pour a drink so I won’t think about my finger and turn in for the night.
Wednesday 7:00 A.M- Wake up, think about my finger then head for hot coffee.
Wednesday 10:15 A.M- Stop work for a while so I can write a story about my finger.
Wednesday 10:45 A.M.- Wonder how many of my readers have died from boredom while reading about my finger.
Eatgrueldog 