I recently had a slight run in with a table saw that has caused me some pain and agony and will for some time yet. The index finger on my left hand has about eight stitches, a 3/8 " long gouge that couldn't be stitched, the bone was chipped twice and the nail will eventually fall off. I suppose it could have been worse, I could have lost all or part of the finger but thankfully it was a dull blade.
I have many scars covering my hands, so many that I can no longer remember how most of them got there, the oldest was incurred when I was maybe two years old, they were all due to neglect on my part, self-inflicted because I wasn't watching where I was going or I was in a hurry. It's true, I was usually doing something the wrong way, too fast, not paying attention or doing something I shouldn't have been doing at all, thus is the calamity of most men who wear scars across various parts of their body.
So, as I sit here rubbing a swollen knuckle, I look at all the scars on my hands and reminisce as to how each of them occurred all those many years ago. The oldest scar is still visible on the back of my right hand, I was barely walking, maybe two years old, my dad's parents took me home with them for a few days and like most young boys I followed my grandfather everywhere. Grandpa went out into the barnyard to feed the animals and I followed, there was a pen where a mother pig was feeding her brood and I reached in to touch one of the cute little pigs, momma pig became upset and bit me. Now I can't say that the details I have just described are accurate because it was a long time ago and I was very young, I do remember sticking my hand in the pen and do remember laying on an exam table in the doctor's office, everything else is a guess.
I'm sure there were other injuries before the age of six but they must not have been monumental because I can't seem to remember anything of consequence. The next scar occurred when a bunch of us kids were out after dark catching lightning bugs and needed a jar to put them in. Mom always had an empty jar with a screw on lid laying around the kitchen and I went in the house to get one. You couldn't just grab a jar and run; the lid needed holes so the bugs could breathe. I grabbed the lid and looked for something to poke holes in the lid, the best thing was a large butcher knife, so there I was with the lid laying on the kitchen table held firmly in place with my thumb and index finger of my left hand, my right hand is holding the knife as if I were about to stab something which I was doing vigorously to the lid. I probably should have stopped with three or four holes but I didn't stop until I felt the knife poke a hole in my thumb. After that incident there seemed to be no end to the cuts, scrapes and bruises that were caused by hammers, knives, rusty nails and such and those were only the injuries to my hands. From time to time I wonder how I made it past puberty, later I wondered how I made into adulthood and lately I wonder how I managed to reach old age.
My right hand has had a few injuries like the pig incident or a pocketknife folding closed on my finger or thumb but the left hand has been the recipient of all kinds of the injuries in particular, it is a wonder I still have an index finger on my left hand. The latest run in with a table saw was not the first. In fact there have been several minor instances with that piece of equipment one of which also involved a trip to the emergency room and stitches to the left index finger. I cut my right thumb on a band saw and twice when a nail, from a finish nail gun, hit a hard grain of wood a two inch finish nail wound up in the web between the thumb and index finger of the left hand and another time clean through the index finger and nail.
In all the years I have been fishing the worst thing to happen was when I grabbed a flopping fish and was stuck with a fin, catfish fins were the worst as they were sore for days. A few years ago, I was out fishing alone in my boat when I caught a small bass, once out of the water it was flopping and jiggling all over the place and I wound up with a treble hook in my left thumb. There I was with a hook in my thumb that was still attached to the lure which was still attached to the rod on one end and a flopping fish on the other, did I say the pain was excruciating? The hook was buried up past the barb and any attempt to remove the fish or hook shot stabs of pain up my arm. The first thing I was able to do was grab the fish with the remaining fingers of my left hand and hold him still so I could cut the line to the rod with scissors then grab the hook in the fishes' mouth with pliers and carefully shake it loose. After a short break I thought of my options the first being to secure everything in the boat, go back to the ramp and load the boat on the trailer with one hand then drive to a clinic and pay a $100 + to have the hook removed, option two was remove the hook myself. Being the tightwad, I chose option two. When the hook went in it was fast, easy and almost painless so in my mind the best thing to do was just push that sucker on through to expose the barb and cut it - problem solved. Well, it didn't turn out that easy as either the point dulled going through my skin or my skin got thicker on the inside, it hurt like hell but I finally gritted my teeth gave it a good push and the barb was out then I continued fishing for a few more hours. Two years later the same thing happened again with the same problems, it was solved in the same manner but then I solved this problem with the purchase of fish pliers to grab the fish.
Linda always kept a supply of Band-Aids handy along with rolls of gauze and ace bandages for the occasional more intensive injuries, over 47 years she washed away dirt and blood, applied mercurochrome, ointments and salves then kissed the injury to make it better. Kay being ever proactive has continued to maintain the stash of medical supplies I brought to our marriage and although somewhat skittish at the sight of blood she has become quite adept at applying Band-Aids and driving me to the emergency room if needed.
So here I am two months later, my latest injury from the table saw is looking good. The stitches are gone, the nail is off and starting to grow back but the finger has a slight curve to the right and won't lay flat. It's still swollen and stiff but I have been back in the shop working with the saws and other tools. I can still operate a fishing reel which is important. It's still going to be a while, maybe months, before all is well again, I may not be able to bend it as far as I used to but there are three more fingers to take up the slack.
There are spots of blood on the shop floor to remind me to be careful and Kay has bought me a new device to hopefully keep my fingers out of harms way. But let's be realistic, this latest "accident" was not my first rodeo and regrettably it probably won't be my last I can only hope it's the worst and the last one for some time to come.
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