Take Time With a Wounded Hand

You know when you bite the inside of your cheek and you really wish you hadn’t? You instantly know the rest of your day is gonna suck. I mean, we chew so many times in our lives. We should be experts! We shouldn’t make painful mistakes like gnawing a hole into our own face! But we do, we’re human, we make mistakes. Well three months ago today I did something like that. Only on a much much bigger scale. I’ve passed so many boards through table saws throughout my life. Each time I’ve had a healthy respect and fear of that machine. As much as I can remember, I was being as careful as always. Then it happened. I instantly knew what happened and how bad it was. I recalled every horror story I had heard from fellow carpenters who had lost fingers. So many thoughts were racing through my mind as I looked down at my mangled hand and then up to my Amanda’s eyes. Those eyes that I always look at and think how beautiful they are. This time I only saw confirmation of how truly awful this situation was.

Time stopped, sound stopped, life as I knew it stopped.

Then a thought came to mind and made its way to my mouth. In a very matter of fact tone, I said, “I’ll never play guitar again”. Followed by, “and I won’t be able to finish the Tiny House”. Amanda quickly shut that kind of talk down with positive reassurance but it felt certain in my mind.

As she ran to get her sister and the car I stood there, alone. In that moment I felt completely isolated, just me, kind of floating in the middle of the universe. Another thought. Could this possibly be fatal. I knew I was bleeding a lot. I knew I was in shock. But could it be the end. I made peace with that thought then moved on from it right away. I told myself to just keep breathing, slow deliberate breaths.

Within 15 minutes we were in the emergency room feeling good about being in a place that could help. Well, not quite. They took one look at me and said “yeah, we can’t handle this here, we need to transfer you right away to a hand trauma specialist”. For nearly five hours the staff worked nonstop, calling every hand surgeon within an ever expanding radius. Springfield, Fayetteville, Ft. Smith, Tulsa…on and on. Each call yielded similar responses. Can’t take him, out of our scope here, the surgeon is on vacation, etc. Finally, the search for a surgeon had reached St. Louis, almost five hours away from where we were. The surgeon said if you can get him here, I’ll see him. Great! There was finally hope!! They said an ambulance was being arranged to get me there. I’m sorry… what!? A five hour drive? I’ve already been here for that long. I asked if a helicopter was possible and they said yes. Amanda quickly started on the 4.5 hr journey to try to make it in time to see me before the surgery. An hour later they said the helicopter couldn’t fly due to the incredibly cold temperatures. Back to the ambulance idea, ugh. Then a nurse said that there was a plane service that might be able to do it. They quickly started arranging that. Problem was that they didn’t know if they could bill my CA insurance, so they would need a hefty deposit before taking off. My Dad came to the rescue, wielding the almighty plastic dollar! Thanks again Papa! I’m giving you a big thumbs up right now – because I can.

In a scene straight out of Narcos, we pulled up to a completely dark runway and made the transfer. Only it wasn’t 50 kilos of party powder, you know, the booger sugar. Nope, I was the goods being smuggled into a small jet. A quick 45 minute flight, no peanuts or cocktail by the way, and I was in St. Louis. After another short ambulance ride to Barnes Jewish Hospital, I was finally where I needed to be. Amanda beat me there!

They quickly assessed my injuries and decided to get me into the operating room sooner than later. It was 4am at this point; more than 12 hours since the accident. A team of four surgeons and countless others spent 8 hours putting back together what took me the blink of an eye to take apart. All in all, the table saw managed to destroy 5 tendons, 8 of the 10 arteries in my hand, 7 nerves, and all the muscle tissue at the base of my fingers. Somehow, I was incredibly lucky and no bones were damaged. I then spent a week in the hospital under close observation. The incredible love and support I had from Amanda, who never left my side, and my parents, who got on the first plane out from South Carolina, was the only way I got through that week.

Then just like that, after what seemed like one really long, confusing day, I was back where it all started. We were home and on our own now. Since then I have had some of the darkest days of my life. It’s not easy going from building a house on wheels one day to feeling powerless (needing help getting dressed, getting out of bed, putting on a jacket) and useless (watching Amanda do all the housework without being able to help). While the physical pain is almost entirely gone, the first month or two were pretty unbearable at times. All of this, however, was completely dwarfed by all the love that I have had continuously coming my way from so many friends and family. 

I’ve spent a great many hours reflecting on what this all means and how I can use this experience. For one thing, I’ve come to a new level of empathy for others. As sorry as I felt for myself at times, someone else is in a much tougher spot. During one of the drives to St. Louis for a follow up visit we listened to a beautiful podcast. The woman in this story is someone we’ve known for a few years from our time in Joshua Tree, Jenny Q. Jenny developed an infection after a small surgical procedure. It quickly overtook her entire body and she lost her legs, hands, her organs began to shut down and her family was told each evening that she would not make it through the night. She proved them all wrong! Her will power and beautiful spirit are truly inspiring. She credits her recovery to her surrounding community and family. What I really took home from this, however, was her outlook on life after her ordeal. She doesn’t have hate in her heart about what happened to her. I listened to this story at a time when I was feeling a lot of hate for what happened to me, something that paled in comparison to what Jenny Q went through. I really started to change the way I looked at this thing that happened to me. I am now at a point where I am almost appreciative of the overall experience. Here’s a link to hear her tell her story (https://soundcloud.com/desertladydiaries/desert-lady-diaries-1). She is an amazing human.

Last week I had my final follow up with my favorite surgeon in the whole wide world. Dr. Brogan is a true miracle worker and I’ll forever be so very thankful to him for coming into the hospital in the middle of the night to fix me up. He was genuinely very happy and slightly surprised to see how much progress had been made since my previous follow up just 5 weeks before. There has been a concern that I would require another surgery down the road to clear out the massive amount of scar tissue that only a table saw can create. However, thanks to all the hard work with my occupational therapist, the way things are looking now, Dr. Brogan doesn’t think that I’ll need any more surgery. So relieved!

Even though I just knew I would never play guitar again or finish the tiny house, I’m happy to report that Amanda was right (*eyeroll*). I am doing both of those things! While, it’ll be quite a while before I’m back to where I was with the guitar, I’m actually amazed at how much has come back already. I’m also making decent progress on the tiny house. Even using power saws 🙂 We’ve been able to get the door permanently installed, the last of the roof trim finished up, wiring up new brake lights/turn signals, some temporary closures for the sheds, and a few more odds and ends (pics below). Shout out to two of my very good friends, Juan Lozano and Alex Vigano, who came out to help us get some of these things done. Them making the time to fly out here really helped lift me out of my funk and motivate me to get back to work on the tiny house.

A few downsides to my recovery that Amanda is super grateful for: I’m able to do some dishes now, can help fold laundry, and can even cook dinner for us… bleh, stupid recovery.

Lastly, we have decided to finish the build in CA for multiple reasons – the main one being that my insurance only covers physical therapy in-state. We are hoping to be on the road this weekend or early next week. While the TH obviously isn’t finished, we are excited for our first road trip with the tiny house and to be back in our old stomping grounds. We will miss this farm and all the lovely humans and animals that reside here!

Puppers update: Arletta is nearly as tall as Buckley now (thought about 20lbs less!). She is OBSESSED with playing fetch with a tennis ball! She’s really incredible at it!! Buckley likes playing with her more now and has mellowed out quite a bit now that he’s more grown up.