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