My Left Hand

To start, an update. My hand still has a nasty hole in it, however, I have managed to give it enough air to stop clotting on the bandages and reopening the wound every time I change them. I am still fortunate enough to not have any severe pain in the wounded area. Unless I move it or touch it in a way that it does not like. Hopefully it will not take to long to heal from this point.

Now for an update on Agent L. She got some really depressing news this week. After a month of the Doctors telling her that she could have surgery next month to start the road to recovery, they instead told her that she would have to have orthodontic work first. So, now she will have to have braces for 9 months to a year before she can have her first surgery. Beyond telling us that sliver of news, she has effectively shut us out. She will be needing prayers.

On to the point of the post. I am sure that many of you right handed people out there have a lot of scars on your left hand, at least I do. From play to work, my left hand takes the brunt of any punishment coming my way.

I have always used my left hand to catch me when I fall or a fly ball heading my way during a baseball game. It is also the hand that is put forward to ward off any attacks. It was also unfortunate enough to be to close to a Pitt Bull on a chain.

Just looking at the palm of my left hand, I see two scars that have a common denominator, injury with no pain.

The first scar is in the Thumb area. To look at it, it does not look all that special. To most people it would look more like a wart than a scar. I received this scar, like the ones that are forming now, in the line of duty.

I was a Reserve Deputy at the time. I was riding with a Deputy on the west side, one of the rougher parts of town, and we were trying to locate a pack of Car thieves. They had just stolen a car from a local gas station. We were about a mile away, and heading toward the scene, when we saw the vehicle.

Unfortunately, they saw us as well. They ducked down a side street and into a residential area. As we were preparing to give chase the vehicle stopped and the driver "Bush Bonded". As soon as my car stopped I gave chase.

In an attempt to elude me and the deputy that was behind me, the driver ran behind a near by house and started fence hopping. Unfortunately for us, all of the chain link fences that we were hopping had a twisted selvage ("V" shaped barbs on the top of the fence). I believe we jumped about 5 or 6 fences before we were clear of the back yards.

I did rather well dodging the barbs on all the fences except the last. I felt the barb puncture the skin and felt as I rotated on it while I was clearing the fence. There was no pain, just pressure. The chase continued for another 100 yards when the Driver hit the woods. We soon lost the driver in the underbrush.

Once he was out of sight we stopped. We could hear him crashing though the underbrush for a good five seconds. Then it stopped with a loud splash. We moved up cautiously weapons ready. We came to a creek about 10 yards across. The driver was lying right in the middle of it spread eagle, face up in three inches of water. We quickly got him into custody and out of the woods as back up arrived.

We secured the Driver in the car of one of the arriving Deputies who pointed out that we were all bleeding. I just had the one puncture wound. The driver was cut and punctured in several places, not just his hands. EMS was called out and transported the Driver and myself to the ER (I volunteered to ride down with the Driver).

After several hours in the ER getting x-rayed, poked, and prodded we were all released and the Driver was taken to Jail.

I was really lucky that the puncture did not cause any damage other than to the tissue. Considering where the puncture was, it could have done a lot of damage to my hand. But, in a few weeks it was good as it ever was.

The other scar on my left hand is a upside down V on the Middle finger, proximal phalanges, palm side (the tuft of meat between the second knuckle and palm). This injury came about in a little less...grand way. In fact it was down right stupid (funny how that keeps happing).

It was just before Christmas a few years back. I was helping the Float crew finish up the Christmas Float for the Church. Our church builds a float every year and enters in several local Christmas Parades to spread the true meaning of Christmas to the masses.

This was my second year helping. I was cutting strips of velcro into smaller more manageable one inch squares. Well, I am not really sure at what point my brain shut down. But, at some point I decided that the best way to cut these strips was to hold one end between my middle and index finger and the other with my ring finger and thumb.

The next thing I notice is a fully closed pair of scissors and a flap of skin over them. I quickly put down the scissors and started applying pressure. That is after taking a good long look at the fatty tissue in my finger. I called out to one of the other workers who just so happened to be a Registered Nurse. I just asked her to take a look at my hand. She obliged and did not react a lot when she saw the wound. She merely took hold of my hand and held it to where she could see better. She then lifted the flap with a fingernail and attempted to place it back where it should have been.

After examining it she stated, "It's a clean cut. It'll need stitches though. Go wash it out good before you head to the ER." I did as I was told while she went and told my mother to take me to the closest ER.

A few seconds after I started washing my hand in warm tap water, the husband of the RN came into the washroom and wanted to take a look at my hand. He said, "She's a good Nurse, but if you got a paper cut she'll tell ya' it needs stitches...Holy crap! You really did a number on your finger. Yeah, you need stitches." He then took a paper towel and tore it in half. One half he gave to me, the other he kept. The half he kept he rolled up and tied it around my finger at the wound. The other he wrapped around my finger and ushered me out the door to the waiting car.

A couple hours in the ER and 6 stitches later I was back home.

Out of the three times I have been to the ER the highest pain score given (o is no pain and 10 being Oh my God someone kill me) was a 2, which got some odd looks from the Nurses.

Just to go ahead and clarify something, this post is not meant to brag about how tough and calm I am. I am actually allergic to pain. I do not like it, it does not like me, and I avoid it as much as possible. So, I will be sure and keep a close look out for my left hand until it gets healed.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

Gunslinger on the Bench

Okay, I'm going to have drop my Mid-world persona for the day. Why you ask. Well due to a combination of really good medicine and the fact that my left hand looks like it was attacked by a funnel web spider, kind of hampers my ability to type and think enough to keep up the facade.

So, as of yesterday I'm on medical leave, at least until Tuesday. All this stems from me going against my gut. I put myself in a situation I knew was stupid and I went anyway.

Yesterday, I was out conducting Home Visits by myself, Casey opted to stay at the office and finish filling out paperwork for court. So, I went out solo. Nothing unusual, I've done it before. I did it a lot when I was a Deputy in fact. At around 1145 hours I pulled up in front of an Offender's reported address. I recognized the house from the first time this Offender got out on Probation. The first time there were less dogs though. I stepped out of the car and closed the door. Four medium to small dogs all come running out of their hidey holes and start barking enough to wake the dead. I was thankful of the fenced in yard.

I walk over to the front gate and waited to see what happened. I figured that if anyone was in the house, that they would at least walk to a window and see me standing there and come to investigate. Well, after five minutes of barking, I decided that there was no way anyone was home and I would have to leave a note on the door.

During the five minutes of waiting I was checking out the dogs. Three Pit Bulls and one chow mix. The chow and one of the Pit Bulls (the oldest and about 1 - 2 years old) were chained to the house. The two younger (one 6 months and the other barely old enough to be away from momma) Pits were running lose in the yard.

I toyed with the 6 month old pit, trying to gauge how he would react to me coming into his home. He was very interested at getting to me. I placed my hand near enough to the fence to stop any bites, but close enough for him to smell and or lick at me. He did the latter. I then checked out the oldest pit. He was giving out the body language of being playful and happy to see me, but my gut was telling me that he was chained for a reason and that body language was misleading.

As I started to open the front gate the 6 month old lunged at me. Coming halfway through the opening in the gate. Luckily all he was interested in doing was licking. I whacked him on the nose to get him back inside the gate and remembered that I needed to get a note for the door. I retrieved it and began my journey of stupidity.

As I started walking toward the door I was better able to see the trail that the two chained dogs had made. Both dogs had been positioned to guard the front door. But, from the trails their maximum chain length allowed plenty of room to get to the front door.

The rest is kind of jumbled. I remember almost getting to the front porch, when I felt something pull my left hand. Surely all of you know the feeling of a small child tugging your hand for whatever reason. That's all I felt. I looked down and saw my hand in the oldest pits mouth. My middle, ring, and pinkie fingers all the way up to mid-hand, to be exact.

I then did the most natural and dumbest thing anyone can do, I tried to pull my hand out. When I did that he clamped down and started shaking. All I felt was pressure, no pain. My brain flooded with thoughts as to what to do. I knew this was bad. The attack mode that the oldest was in could easily send the little 6 month old the message to do the same. If the 6 month old hit me in the right spot, I could go down and that would be really bad. It had to be ended now.

The thought process went as follows: Punch it! Punch it in the nose! No, what if he grabs a hold of your other hand, and if grabs a hold of it you can't shoot him. Shoot him? That's right shoot him! Crap! I can't, he's shaking my arm to much and I might shoot myself in the process. Well, do something!...The dog whisperer! If a dog he's working with needs a little extra distracting, he gives them a little kick between the ribs and back legs!

I then kick with everything I can put behind it, right in the sweet spot. The dog yelped, giving me enough time to get my hand out of his mouth. From bite to release, maybe five seconds.

I then took a few steps back toward the gate and stopped to check out the damage. I noted a few places where I was starting to bleed. I then noticed a hole in the webbing between the middle and ring finger. It wasn't bleeding, but when I spread those two fingers, all I saw was white. My thought was that I really hope that that's just fatty tissue and not bone and ligaments.

At some point I remember the dogs and noticed that something was trying to eat my ankle. Unable to find purchase to get a hold of my ankle because of my boot, it started going to town on my pants leg. Since it was just the pants leg I just started walking toward the gate. I'm not sure how I managed to get the gate closed, but I did. I then went back to the car for the phone and was so shaken that I couldn't dial 911 the first couple of tries.

Once I actually got a hold of the emergency operator, I advised her of who I was, who I worked for, and where I was. I told her that I was attacked by a dog and needed a Deputy and and ambulance. Her response was, "Is it your dog?" "No. It's not my dog. I'm at at an offender's house doing a home visit." "Is the dog still attacking you?" Really, "No! The dog isn't attacking me!" "Okay sir, I'm going to transfer you to the EMS operator."

Once a hold of the EMS operator, I had to go through the same exact line of questions with the added bonus of medical advise. That consisted of keep the wounded hand elevated and wipe the wounded area down with a damp cloth. During the conversation with the EMS operator, I started looking through the car for the first aid kit and of course, no luck.

Once I was done with the operators I had to call the office and give the bad news. After a few seconds with the Admin at the front desk I was transferred to our Assistant Agent In Charge. After five minutes of explaining the situation, he then told me that I would have to talk to my Supervisor to get the paperwork going. Really, we couldn't have done that a few minutes earlier.

After a few minutes on the phone with my Supervisor, I noticed a woman standing on the front porch of the house. She was standing there holding the new born pit with nothing more than a night gown and a bath robe on. Once I saw her, I told her to come over and speak with me, "YOU! GET OVER HERE! NOW!" was the gist of it. She calmly walked over, giving the chained pit a kick when it tried to start playing with her.

Once she came over, I went into full police mode, getting her name, age, date of birth, contact information, whether the dog had it's Rabies shot (she claimed it does, but couldn't find the information or the tags), I even managed to find out that my offender was not living at this address. Once I got all that, I told her that she needed to go back inside and get dressed for when the Deputies came and see if she could fine the Rabies shot info. She obliged.

After three minutes of waiting, EMS arrived. They cleaned and bandaged the wounds and let me sit in the back of the ambulance while we waited for the deputies. After ten minutes the county Animal Control arrived. He told me the Deputies were not coming and that he was going to take care of it. Which meant giving the owner a ticket for not having the Rabies tags and quarantining the dog at the house (since it was already chained up and what not) for the next ten days, to make sure that it didn't exhibit any signs of Rabies. Animal control told me when the hearing date would be, but that if the owner provided the tags and/or information for the Rabies shots that the charges would be dropped. It was only going to be $185 ticket anyway.

Once I got the EMS crews information and the information from Animal control, I signed the waiver to not be transported to the Hospital and drove myself to, in my opinion, the best ER in the County. One of the perks of being in Law Enforcement, you tend to go to a lot of ER's, and learn quick which is the best to go to in the event of an Emergency.

After a short drive and an even shorter wait in the ER lobby, I was taken to triage. While trying to answer the barrage of questions, I got a text message from Casey, "Call me when you get a sec." Thinking this was just to get a heckle, I told him that it would be a while before I could do that. A few seconds later I got another text from him asking if I could run by the jail and help him to serve a warrant. I just told him that I wouldn't be able to due to paperwork that I would be doing later.

While I was going through Triage, one of the Supervisors came in to make sure that everything was going smoothly and to keep me company. Interesting that my Supervisor didn't do that.

Anyway, after four hours in the ER, being poked, prodded, x-rayed, and IVed to my limit, they let me go.

The Supervisor insisted on driving me back to the office, where I was immediately inundated with questions and of course made fun of, mostly by Casey for not telling him I was in the ER. Of all the people in my office that have had the privilege of being called "milkbone", I am the only one that has the moniker of "Chain".

Once, I answered everyone's questions, mostly my Supervisor's, I was allowed to go home for the weekend. Since I had Court scheduled for today (and y'all know how much I hate that) it's not such a bad trade. Although, I will be chained to a desk for the foreseeable future, that part will suck.

For now, I get to discuss things with my workman's comp representative and get that paperwork going. On Monday (which is a holiday for us South Carolina state employees) I get to go see a hand specialist to make sure that everything is okay with my hand. Of course the ER doctor did mention words such as surgery, but I don't think that will be necessary unless the wound gets infected to a point that antibiotics aren't working.

Since, I have a lot more free time, I might just have a post about past injuries ;)

Semper Fi Deus

Goose