My wife had an accident last Thursday evening. Oddly enough, I understood her panicked gibberish when she told me what happened. She was mowing the lawn when the mower got blocked up. She released the throttle, cutting off the engine, and tipped it over to clear up whe wet grass that was jamming it. Unfortunately, there must have been tension in the drive shaft and the blade swung, mangling her right middle finger...
She called me at the office screaming bloody murder, in a total panic. After she told me what happened, I did my best to calm her, gave her simple instructions on what to do with the wound, and told her to get the next door neighbor to take her to the emergencty room where I would meet her (as I work more than a half-hour away). She did as best she could and the neighbor took her to the hospital. Unfortunately, she couldn't find the part that was ripped off. Not that it would have done any good, all things considered.
By the time I got there, she was already admitted and placed in the 'Fast-Track' area. She was still bleeding and in a lot of pain. They gave her morphine and another painkiller, but she has always had a high tolerance to those kinds of medications. She was still in a lot of pain after more than an hour, so the doctor finally gave her a local anesthetic (several apparently painful shots into the back of her hand to numb everything). Eventually she calmed down and released her death-grip on my own hand, and blood began to flow into my own numbed fingers.
X-rays were taken through the loose dressings that were applied upon her arrival, and it was a while before anyone came to check on her. In the meantime, she had bled through all the dressings and was soaking the side of the gurney. I didn't notice, as I was on the other side of her (and trying to deal with my own dislike of hospitals and emergency rooms). When someone did notice, the doctor came to clean out the wound and sew her up...
It wasn't pretty.
The doctor did warn me, as he did not want to pick me up off the floor if I fainted. Little did he realise that I had seen far worse than this far too many times (all too often, and many were my own injuries that I'd seen). I assured him I would be fine, and even managed to point out where he had missed some debris that I could see from my angle while he was cleaning the wound. My wife would not even look at it, not being able to stand the sight of her own blood.
He put in three temporary stitches to close it and keep the bone from drying out until a hand surgeon could look at it. It was dressed again and she was given precriptions for painkillers and antibiotics. A referral was given for a hand surgeon with instructions that it had to be looked at within twenty-four hours, or she would need to return to the ER to have it re-dressed. after over five hours, she was released at about one in the morning.
I stayed up with her all night, getting her what she needed and helping as best as I could. The numbing shots wore off sometime around four in the morning and she woke in tears. She finally managed to sleep again, but I stayed awake all the way through...
Friday was spent looking for a different hand surgeon since the one referred was out of town. Out of the six others in the area, only one was willing to come in on his day off and see her hand. It was a good thing he did, as she had bled through the temporary dressing and was in severe pain. Several shots later, he managed to unwrap her and have a look. Basically, he told my wife that she would lose the tip of her finger from the knuckle. Corrective surgery was scheduled for Tuesday and new stitiches and new dressings were applied.
I've spent the weekend helping her as best as I can because any use of her right hand causes extreme pain (and she's right handed). Unfortunately, her great aunt and second cousin were (and still are) in town to visit her mum and came over to try and help. Believe me, this did little to help...
So I not only had to deal with my wife's fluctuating moods and depression, but I had to deal with her likeable and well-meaning yet fragile ninety-five year old great aunt. The second cousin, my wife's godmother, is a retired registered nurse and was a bit more helpful, but it is still difficult dealing with everything and looking after guests that do not know where I keep things in the house.
I am more than a little frazzled and was actually glad to get to the office this morning and deal with the chaos that is my job to get away from everything at the house. Felt good to just get out for a while.
Of course, tomorrow morning is the surgery, and she's not allowed painkillers or any food or water after midnight. Considering how high her tolerance is for painkillers and how much this is apparently hurting her, I think I am in for a long and sleepless night tonight...
The only silver lining to this that I could come up with was not well received, unfortunately. I jokingly told her that she could now probably get a 10% discount on manicures, which earned me a puch in the arm from her good hand... I deservered that one though, so I shouldn't complain.
