My Finger! My Finger!

Okay, so y'all know by now that accidents follow me around somewhat, but the way I look at it... usually I don't get hurt real bad and it's good for a laugh from the fam. Que sera sera.

I was in the woods this morning, happily chainsawing up my little corner of North America, minding my own business. In the process of sawing down a hickory, that had done nothing to offend me, I was just claiming it as mine... my trusty Stihl chainsaw derailed the chain about halfway. Now the bar (that's the thing that sticks out in front of the saw that the chain spins on) is worn out on my saw, it's got a few years on it... but I thought that I could get another year outta the thing. That's mostly why the chain did a sideways walk and got itself lodged half on/half off. When the bar gets worn down pretty bad, they have a tendency to throw a real nice razor sharp (literally) edge on the bar.

I traipsed over (I'm a helluva traipser by the way, I come from a long line of professional traipsers) to my truck, un-sawing saw in hand. Now keep in mind that the saw is not running. Even if it were running it would non-cutting because of the condition of the chain. I have on leather gloves, I grab hold of the chain and give it a little tug to finish the derail offa the bar, and it comes right off. I pick up my wrench to loosen things up to get the chain back on and notice blood running outta my glove.

Now that's curious. So I pull the glove off and OH HOLY CRAP!! I am bleeding like the proverbial stuck pig, as it were. I'm trying to get a look at what I've done but there's just too much blood... and I'm starting to get a little nervous. I'm a looooonnnnnggggg way from civilization.

When I yanked the chain, it came on off so easily the top of that razor sharp bar cut right through the leather glove and sliced my index finger in a pretty spectacular fashion right across the middle knuckle on my right hand.

So I did the first thing I usually do, I go into the stationary panic spin. This is where you just turn around in one spot like 4 or 5 times trying to rationalize the situation out... 'cause everyone knows you can't do this standing still.

I grab a roll of paper towels outta the truck and wrap the thing up and hold it for bout 5 minutes trying to get it to stop bleeding. "Lord please dont' let me die of a cut finger in the wilderness 'cause there won't be a straight face at my funeral if I do!"

I can't imagine the humiliation that my family would suffer if I were to die like that. Criminy.

So I toss all my tools in the back of the truck and head for home. Now I know that Sally was gonna make a run into town so I called home and told her to hang on for a few minutes and I'd be right there. When I pulled in the driveway she was sitting in her car ready to leave. I get outta the truck and I'm in kind of a mess. I hadn't really taken stock of myself yet but my denim shirt was coated pretty good with blood, as were both hands and the fronts of my jeans and some on my shoes.

Sally is the love of my life, but that girl can't take the sight of blood and here I come walking in like a Boris Karloff birthday party clown.


Sally: *trying to make light of the scene* Got some red paint on your shirt honey.

Me: Uh yeah. *holding my bad hand behind my back*

Sally: Get in the car and lets go to the ER.

Me: Let me run in and clean things up a bit... I don't really know what it looks like yet.

Sal then just kinda leans forward on the steering wheel and doesn't look so hot. I run in and start cleaning things up and sorta triage myself (I gotta lotta experience at this.) and decide I ain't going to the ER.

I head back outside and Sal says again "get in the car, let's go". Like she could drive... she looked like Casper the Ghost in mime makeup. I tell her I'm just gonna tape things up and keep it clean and it'll all be good. The band's gotta big private party gig this weekend and If I get stitches it's gonna be hell picking with my right hand. I've been sewn up enough times to be on the cover of a quilt magazine. I know how it works.

Sally: I need air.

Me: *just standing there with my hand behind my back* * I wish I had a bouquet back there*

Sally: *getting outta the car* I really need air.

Me: *just bleeding*

Sally: *slumped over the fence with me hanging on to her* I need to sit down.

Me: *still just bleeding and bloody*

Sally: You really gotta get that shirt off.

Sally: Seriously, you need to get rid of the shirt Jace.

Sally: I'm gonna faint.

Me: Want me to get you something?

Sally: Go stand somewhere else. Over there behind that shed is a good place.


Eh she finally collected herself and got un-faintly. I went in and bandaged the thing up, put all sorts of neosporin on it. It's a wee bit sore tonite, but it'll all be good. Sally went to town, bought some stuff at an auction, got groceries and beer. All is good.

Oh yeah she got me a present. Looky! Just for the truck!





Is that awesome or what? It's even got a glow in the dark light stick in it! I'm just guessing if it's getting dark and you feel like you're gonna die, you bust that thing open and pour the glow goo all over yourself so the search party can find your carcass. Pretty cool stuff. They think of everything these days.


And now... the horrors of my bandaged finger. And yeah... typing this was weird with that thing, but I did it anyway for alla y'all.






Wonder what tomorrow brings me.....






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