Ouch!

Managed to catch my finger in the kitchen door while heading outside.

Blood dripping everywhere as I talked to my lawn guy, he had a reference for a guy to maybe redo our upstairs bath...

"Are you okay?" He said as he looked at my hand.

"Not really." I answered.

As I didn't elaborate he finished writing down the guy's name and number.

Once inside I alerted The Missus Herself of my need for medical attention. Off to the "urgent care facility" we went.

Where we waited for a good 15 minutes. The amount of sheer incompetence on display was mind-boggling.

Finally saw a nurse practitioner (who definitely needs more practice) who decided x-rays were in order. I resisted the urge to comment, "No shit, ya think?"

X-rays revealed a fracture at the tip of the middle finger. Hell, if they'd just lifted the flap of skin which used to be the pad of my finger you could probably see the damned bone. I needed what the NP called a "bone doctor." In other words, an orthopedic doctor. Too big a word for the NP perhaps?

Did they properly bandage it before sending me on my way to an actual hospital? Only if you consider a wad of gauze and about 20 feet of tape proper. Like I said, incompetent. The NP recommended three hospitals, I chose the one I've had surgery at in the past. Told the NP that. to which she said not a word.

Arrived at said hospital, they said "we have no bone doctors, you need Rhode Island Hospital for that..." You'd think that original NP might have freaking mentioned that. Nope.

So back across Providence we went to RIH.

After much waiting, and more x-rays, we got to the back room, where the magic happens. They had to cut my wedding ring off, swelling and all that, believe me that ring wasn't coming off with lubricants, it's been on there a long time. Seems it shrunk as well.

Anyhoo, apparently they let management choose the tools, the auto-magical powered thing didn't work all that well. They had to go old school with a human powered cutter, which finished the job, after about an hour.

They orthopedic team showed up, assessed the situation, shot the hand with the injured digit full of juice to block nerves and deaden the finger. Cleaned the wound, which was so damned nasty looking even I was a bit grossed out. No pictures, no way.

Then they mentioned having to remove the fingernail as there was bruising under it, not a big surprise there. But remove it? I had visions of WWII in the hands of the enemy, pulling fingernails and all that. And guess which portion of my anatomy was yet to be numb?

Yup, the tip of the injured finger.

Holy sweet crap did that hurt. Everyone has a breaking point, I know mine. Yup, pull out a pair of pliers and head for the fingernails and I'll tell you everything, shoot me afterwards, I don't care. Better yet, shoot me during, I'd welcome it!

Anyhoo, more shots were administered, more poking and prodding ensued, finally the finger was ready.

No, I didn't watch.

Oddly enough, after they'd cleaned and treated everything, sewed my finger pad back on and all, they sewed the nail back on. Odd that, but the doctor said it was loose enough not to cause undo pain to the broken fingertip but strong enough to act as a natural splint.

After nearly eight hours of this medical adventure, we returned home to the manse. Best comment of the day was from The Missus Herself as we hit hour two in the waiting room at the ER:

"What are they doing back there, waiting for a kid to finish medical school before they fix your finger?"

Sure felt like it.

No posts for the next cuppla, hard typing with one hand, and the meds are starting to wear off on the damaged digit.

I'm on medical leave of absence from the blog for a while. Oddly enough, this was my first broken bone ever.

Oh, and...

Happy Independence Day. Enjoy!

Ciao.