Previous entry:
Early Morning Conversations With My Guts

Next Entry:
Science Shows it is True

Home:
One Truth For All

Archives

• May 2008
• April 2008
• March 2008
• February 2008
• December 2007
• November 2007
• October 2007
• September 2007
• August 2007
• July 2007
• May 2007
• April 2007
• March 2007
• February 2007
• December 2006
• November 2006
• October 2006
• September 2006
• August 2006
• July 2006
• June 2006
• May 2006
• April 2006
• March 2006
• February 2006
• January 2006
• December 2005
• November 2005
• October 2005
• September 2005
• August 2005
• July 2005
• June 2005
• May 2005
• April 2005
• March 2005
• February 2005
• January 2005
• December 2004
• November 2004
• October 2004
• September 2004
• August 2004
• July 2004
• June 2004
• May 2004
• April 2004
• March 2004
• February 2004
• January 2004
• December 1969

March 9, 2005

Fingers Up

It occurred to me this evening, as I was contemplating the unpleasant task of changing the dressing on my ruined stump of a finger (no, really, I'll be fine; they say they might be able to save the arm), that I haven't washed my left index finger in about a week.

...

Now, it's not as if I've taken to jamming the bugger into piles of feces or rotten food, and I have been sterilizing the area and all that hooha, so it's not festering with rot, but still, washing is for more than merely keeping down the microbe population, and my left index finger is starting to feel kind of gamey.

It's also starting to hurt, which is one of those delicious ironies of the sliced finger. At first it hurts not at all, on account of how you hardly notice you've sliced off half the finger with that ornery piece of balsa wood. Then it hurts like holy hell while you clean it and glue it back together with superglue (no kidding, that is what they did), then it stops hurting because at that point the brain realizes it was overreacting, on account of how the nerve was sliced and it really has no idea what is going on down there.

The thing is -- and this is the good part -- as the finger heals, nerves somehow kick in and start sending the brain all kinds of weird bullshit, like, "It's COLD down here!" or "Owie!" or even "I'm all wet." So now I have a dirty, gamey finger that's telling me it's cold and wet when I know for certain (by checking with the other hand) that it is warm and dry and doing fine, and also yelling a lot more than a finger really ought to be allowed to do.

Also, the superglue stuff has cured into a hard solid end on my finger, which feels substantial until you try to use it for anything, at which point there's this terrible, unpleasant oosh feeling. So I'm not doing that any more.

Also (I'm on a roll, and nobody can stop me!) the superglue stuff has cured into a hard mass with my blood, duh, on account of how it's a flesh wound, but now it smells funny. I can wash it, but I can't get rid of the smell because it is coming from the stuff bound up in the superglue, and that's what's keeping me from bleeding and bleeding and just running out of blood. So I have a dirty, stinking, lying finger.

Send in the posse.

Posted by ayse on 03/09/05 at 9:35 PM