They saved the finger..

This was supposed to be an easy, carefree weekend.  One of those rare weekends where spontaneity is possible because plans were not made ahead of time.  We could lounge on the couch, work on our hobbies, or even do a little shopping.  And, no, I'm not referring to the necessary evil of grocery shopping, but the much more enjoyable version where you get to buy things that actually make you happy.

Because the oldest boy needed some pants and the youngest could use a new pair of shoes, I decided to head into the city to do some shopping at Kohl's.  Of course, my decision to shop there was not quite so altruistic.  Mama needed a new bathing suit!

So, I pack the kids up and head into the city.  The youngest picks out his shoes.


The oldest tries on a few pairs of jeans and ends up with two in the basket.  Did I mention we have to shop in the men's department now?  That he's wearing size 29?  My baby is growing up!


Then it was Mom's turn.  I was looking over the options, selecting those that appealed to the eye and might - hopefully - fit, when my phone rang.  It was the hubby and he had me on speaker phone.

"I cut my fingers on the table saw.  I'm going to need to go to the hospital."

I thought he was joking. 

"No, really.  The EMTs are here and they're patching up my hand.  I'm going to need to go to the hospital, but finish your shopping because it's going to take awhile to get down there."

Um.  What?  Seriously?

"I'm fine.  I just can't drive myself down, so I'm going in the ambulance."

Then he tells me, again, to finish my shopping.

Now, it may sound crass, but we live about 45 minutes from the hospital in question.  Since I was already in town, I was a mere 15 minutes away.  So I finished my shopping.  I tried on the bathing suits, picked out my favorite, and headed off to the hospital.



Even after trying on the bathing suits and checking out, I still managed to beat the ambulance to the hospital by about ten or fifteen minutes.  This helped immensely with my guilt over not rushing immediately out of Kohl's.

When the ambulance finally did arrive, we were able to join Ken back in the ER triage area.  His hand was bundled in several layers of blood-soaked bandages, but he seemed remarkably calm and, oddly enough, strangely cheerful.  One of the EMTs handed me his wedding ring - also covered in blood - and I stuck it in my purse while he chatted affably with the nurses and doctors.

The boys and I stepped out of the room.  I don't do well with blood and he was afraid the boys would be freaked out because he was fairly certain the fingertip of his middle finger was mangled beyond repair.  As in, he figured there was no way it could be saved and he was looking at losing a good 1/4 inch or more, possibly down to just below the first knuckle.

Nope, didn't want to see that!

Well, I didn't.  The boys were trying their best to peek around the curtain in order to catch a glimpse.  I'm assuming it's a boy thing.

After being treated by the ER docs, it was decided our hospital would need to transfer him to a different hospital where a hand specialist was on staff.  Can you believe I drove him from one hospital to the next?  Me, either!

Oh, and here's my next guilty moment.  I dropped him off at the ER doors because he wanted me to take the kids home.  He didn't want them at the hospital after dark.  Neither did I, to be honest.   This particular hospital is known for its less than savory after-hours crowd.  Although, to be fair, this was the quietest I had ever seen that particular ER and wasn't nearly as scary as it has been in the past.

Still, I let him walk in by himself so I could take the boys home.

I returned an hour later with my Dad as escort.  I think we spent another couple hours in that ER before he was finally moved upstairs to a room where he would await surgery.  Surgery that wasn't supposed to happen until 1 or 2 in the afternoon the next day.

My plan was to get to the hospital by ten or ten-thirty that next morning.  Wouldn't you know they took him down before I got there?  By minutes!  I arrived to an empty room and was directed down to the surgical waiting room.  About an hour and a half later, he was out and the surgeon gave me the good news:  he had saved the mangled finger!  It was "groddy" and "wouldn't look like the original equipment", but he felt optimistic.  We'll have a better idea of how successful the procedure really was in about six months, but things looked promising.

Hubby's home now.  He's on some pretty powerful narcotics and a precautionary antibiotic regiment.  The first night home he slept well and didn't complain too much about the pain.  Last night wasn't quite so easy, though.  The pain seems to be increasing as the nerves wake up - we were told to expect this.  On the bright side, we think this means the blood flow is good enough to keep the tissues and nerves alive.







   



 

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