You may recall that I had some finger damage a while back. Yesterday was the two week checkup of my finger after the sutures came out on the fifteenth. I’m told that the healing is going quite well. Nobody used the term “superhuman healing factor” but I can read between the lines.

Anyway, I’ve taken some more photos. My purpose here is to document PDR after all. Once again, I advise people who are sensitive to what busted-up-fingers may look like to not click on the links. What more can I do?

So the first photo shows what I got the day the sutures came out. At this point I had gone nine days without being able to clean the finger, which was less than ideal considering that I had injured it in machinery that was, as ought to be expected, not exactly sterile. But apart from just the filth we also have the dead fingernail sewn back into place to promote the growth of its replacement adding to the overall ugliness of the finger. Add to all of this the actual wound, of course. The sutures were taken out because all the cuts were now closed, but the swelling still had the wounds bulging with redness. The verdict? Obviously this is nowhere near as bad as my previous viewing of the finger, which was when the finger-fill that was hanging out of those wounds was being shoved back in so that they could sew it up, but this finger would not win any beauty contests for fingers. And not just because such contests don’t exist*.

The second photo was taken today! Much nicer! The finger has rejoined the rest of its fellows in the routine of regular washing, the dead nail has gone off to wherever it was needed most, and the swelling is down remarkably. At the time off the previous photo it took me four Band-Aids to adequately cover everything. Now I’m down to one. The picture isn’t great, so it can be hard to see the scarring on the underside, but mostly my verdict this time is that this is a finger that looks like a finger.

Anyway, though I thought this was to be the last of my visits, they actually want me go back for yet another look-see in six weeks’ time. Whatever, alright. I will point out, though, that the first time that I lost a fingernail in a machine at work (without the addition of a broken bone, admittedly) I didn’t even go back for one checkup, so all of this feels unnecessary to my untrained eyes. But in the end, I would like to thank the doctors at the QEII who spent some time out of their busy days dealing with my dumb injury and they were all nice as they did it. Thanks, people!

*If, in fact, beauty contests for fingers do exist, please try to make sure I never find out. Because that would be depressingly stupid.

But the post goes on! I wanted to mention, since I brought it up above, the term “Healing factor” annoys me. As a reader of comics and a fan of superheroes, I have come across this term many times in my life and I don’t care for it. I can accept saying that one has an “enhanced healing factor” or, as I did a “superhuman healing factor” but that isn’t the way it is used (As seen in this, frankly not good, Wikipedia page). The ability to heal isn’t a superpower. It’s the degree at which characters like Deadpool or Wolverine do their healing that is actually important, so shouldn’t that degree be a part of the description of their powers?

Oh! And since I’m going off on this tangent about superpowers, I might as well bring up some thoughts on Superman. If Superman were facing a villain who had telekinesis or some equivalent ability, would that villain then be able to use his power to make Superman’s bones move? And if so, would the villain then be able to force Superman’s powerful Kryptonian bones through his powerful Kryptonian flesh? I would assume that the strength of each of these would be similar to that of a human bone and flesh, and we know that a bone can pop through that stuff. Now, I like Superman, so don’t consider this me thinking of ways for villains to hurt him. This is me warning him of the potential threat of villains using his own femur to reverse-stab its way out of his body. Watch out Superman!

Joanne kept punching the giant spiders, but they just kept coming. Each one more gianter than the last except the seventeenth on, which was smaller than the one proceeding it by at least three feet. By the time the ninety-sixth giant spider was there Joanne had to look way up because it was over thirty feet tall. “It’s gonna be one of those days,” said Joanne, referring to how this was the seventh time she’d had to spend a day punching a horde of giant things. It was actually the first time it was giant spiders, though she didn’t clarify that to the onlookers. She’d punched giant rats, giant ants, giant lobsters. She was confident the giant spiders could be lumped into the same category without anyone questioning it. So Joanne spent another day punching giant things. When all the spiders had received the necessary amount of punching, she dusted off her hands and said “The things I do for money,” referring to how punching hordes of giant things was outside the normal bounds of what one was expected to do in her line of work. Joanne works as a museum tour guide. Anyway, she got paid and took her kids out to a pizza place for supper.

The End.

I guess, since I don’t really have any other news to speak of, I’ve got to talk about my finger again.

The healing is going well as far as I can tell. Yesterday I noticed that my body was starting to keep things, like my wallet and sunglasses or whatever, in my right coat pocket again without this resulting in my finger gong “Hey, don’t do that! I’m broken over here!” so I consider that progress. Pretty soon I will be back to my usual standard of things I do with that hand (writing, drawing, tying my effing shoes) and I will like that. I guess it will take a little longer for things specific to my middle finger, but I don’t know that many things I do with just that finger. I can’t really snap my fingers without it, I guess. Also… uh… Flipping people off… I guess?… and… uh… fingerbanging? … Um.

Anyway, I’ll try to shut up about my finger until the final checkup now.

Okay, since it is about the only thing I’ve got to talk about, here is the latest in Manglefinger news:

Today was the day I had to go in and get my sutures taken out (the ones that come out anyway), and I showed up way early because I expected I’d have a long wait, but I didn’t! I got in and out quickly and am now sutureless (except the ones that are still there).

The primary victory of today, though, is the fact I have finally reached the stage where I am allowed to clean and dress the wound myself. At last I can wash my damn right hand, which I have not done properly for over a week. It has been irritating. The (still kinda nasty looking) wound is now covered only by adhesive strips and I can get in there whenever I want to clean it. So nice.

I have to go back into the hospital AGAIN in two weeks for one last checkup. I’m confident I will use that trip as well for another excuse for a post.

Haiku!

What is a walrus?
why won’t anyone tell me?
I am so confused.

(That haiku is, for the most part, unrelated to my injury.)

Do you think that vikings would have developed nuclear weapons if they hadn’t been wiped out by the coming of the white man? This is my history question of the day. I need thousand word essays to answer this.

Okay, so a co-worker used his phone to take a picture of my busted finger while it was being treated at the triage unit in the hospital. I now have this picture, so naturally it is going onto my website.

If you are at all bothered by blood or injuries, especially fingernail stuff, you shouldn’t look. Seriously, you probably shouldn’t look. Anyway, I gotta say, it doesn’t look so bad. Though maybe that is just because I saw the other side of that finger as well. Apart from the nail, the other side had the real damage. But the important thing is that the image is now on the Internet.

Anyway, I’ll give some updates about other aspects of my finger healing. One thing, yesterday it took me about ten minutes to open a bottle of juice. That was effing annoying. Here I am at about minute seven, just in disbelief:

But apart from that I seem to be doing alright with the limited use of my dominant hand. As I previously mentioned, I’m taking antibiotics four times a day and I have to take them with food. As a person who will usually only eat once a day, but can manage twice if necessary, four is an insane number of foods to eat. Here’s how I am remedying this:

A spoonful of sugar-covered nuts helps the medicine go down. I discovered these Sweet Vanilla Almond things a couple months ago and I love them. I’ve only found them at one store (a Circle K), in my immediate area (though this could be, in part, because I am bad at shopping) so I’ve not had them often (only twice, I think, until now). Yesterday I went to that Circle K and bought every bag on display. Now, for the two times a day I have to force myself to eat, I will use these as incentive!

It is entirely possible I will be sick of them well before I’m supposed to stop with the medicine, but I’ll row that boat when the water comes. For now: So good.

After three decades of anticipation, I somehow expected my first broken bone to be more dramatic.

So anyway, I’ve been all splinted up and had some sleep (though not as much as I expected). I have some feeling getting back into the fingers and, as one would expect, it is sore.

Still, I think, probably the worst parts of this for me are yet to come. For one thing, I’ve got to take antibiotics four times a day, specifically with food. I do not generally eat food four times a day. I predict a week of feeling overly full.

I am due to go back on Thursday to get it checked out and until then, I’m not meant to change the dressing or anything. That’s gonna annoy me too.

Also, I’m told it would be a good idea to keep the hand raised above the level of my heart at all times. Like, even when I am sleeping. It is bothersome having to mentally remain aware of my hand like this. It takes up brainpower that I should be using to think about prehistoric mammals. And the stranger part is that during my first visit, right after the accident, I asked the guy working triage if I should keep it elevated and he literally replied “If it makes you feel better.” The actual doctor made it sound less optional.

In any case, the whole thing could have been much worse, so I’ll just be happy in spite of the above annoyances.

Finally, and be sure that I don’t like to objectify anyone, but I feel it is important to note that the doctor who did my sutures was easily one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Is it possible that hospitals breed some sort superhumanly attractive doctors to make treatment more tolerable? Because I’m not wholly against that.