Friday, March 31, 2006

That'll be leaving a mark

This was not the best day on the farm. This afternoon I messed up my truck. I was backing up and the pole that holds up the big old bird house was in my blind spot. It tore into the left front quarter panel of the truck and I had to take a five pound sledge hammer to it and the door to get metal out of the way just so I could open the door. Needless to say, the driver’s side of the truck looks like crap. Melissa reminded me of the first car she ever had – a Dodge Aspen that had been hit by a bus and the passenger side door would not open, ever. The truck is a vehicle we are using as a working vehicle on our farm. It does not have to be pretty, it just has to function.

So, I went on and loaded the t-post driver, wire and clips in the truck bed and went back to the tank to continue working on the electric fence around the future apiary. The bees are due the week of April 10th. I got the clips on and began driving the pipes I am using for grounding rods. On the second pipe I checked it as it was about half way into the ground and went back to pounding. On the first stroke after checking the pipe I missed the pipe. However, the top of the pipe lined up perfectly with the handle and it was driven in a little bit more. The problem is that the index finger on my left hand was between the pipe and the handle. This was the end of today’s work as Melissa and I went on a little date to the local emergency room. My finger is now shorter than it was this morning and the fingernail that was on it when I got up is now in my pocket. Faith, the eagle eyed daughter, spotted it when we went back to the tank this evening. It is kinda cool looking and goes well with the tip of my finger, which we brought home from the hospital in a specimen jar.

I am currently blogging under the influence of vicodin and cannot use the messed up index finger at all. Here is what I get when I use the bad finger on the “d” key: dfscexr. But, while this day was not ideal, it had its bright spots. Claire is in the orchard watching cows. Faith is hanging out with me on the front porch in absolutely beautiful weather. Stephen is making cookies with the butter left over in the mixer from the butter making this afternoon. My favorite kind of cookies as it turns out – chocolate chip cookies without the chocolate chips. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. I am in no pain thanks to the pharmaceutical industry. Monday we will go back to the doctor to have him look at the finger again. Even though he had deadened it with two shots of litocain (sp?) before clipping off the tip that was hanging on, it was very painful since it was a nerve that was keeping the tip attached. It felt like being poked with an ice pick that was electrified. The nurse was very nice and the doctor, other than trying to cut off the tip without any pain killer, was good as well.



Anonymous said...

Ouch Roger! Sure hope you're feeling better soon.

Karen Matlock said...

I'm in sympathy pain for you. Like that does a lot of good! Now you know why you see very few farmers with all their digits. Prayers your way for fast healing, and so that you'll come up with a better story than cutting it off on a post. Alligators? Rabid dogs?

Audrey said...

Yuk...brings back memories, like the time my husband cut off the tops of 2 of his fingers on a table saw. He came home and asked me to sew them up. I unwrapped the towel off the fingers to look inside and it squirted blood at me and then that is all I remember for the next few minutes due to me passing out. Needless to say he to went to the hospital to have them put back together. Good Times, LOL

Kristi Hayworth said...

You're in good company. A few months after my parents moved to their farm west of Weatherford, my dad was loading some seed into a larger spreader that was pulled behind the tractor. He rested his right hand on the edge of the tub part of the spreader and the lid, which wasn't as propped up as he thought, came crashing down. He got all of his hand out except his right index finger - it was completely severed at the second knuckle. We packed everything in ice, but that was really before the days of reattachment.
I just hope no one on your farm ever gets shot. We also have a story about the bullet in Daddy's leg that he carried to the day he died. Good thing he never flew after 9/11 - he'd've never made it through the metal detectors and the doctor who'd treated him was no longer alive to write him a note!