2. My Left Hand

When I was 7 years old I was a little self centered. My Mom and Dad had decided to drive into Fort Wayne to run a few errands without any of us children tagging along. I was upset by this because my brother (11 years older) had just rediscovered the Rubber Band guns and we knew we would be tortured when they left.

**We had these wooden pieces shaped like guns with clothes pins attached at the top. To use it one would put the end of a rubberband around the "Barrel" of the gun and draw it back to hook into the clothes pins. Hold the gun, release the clothes pin and SNAP! instant welt on any defenseless child standing nearby.**

Mom and Dad had given the 3 of us the lecture about "being good and there will be hell to pay when we get home if you don't" speech. I was being distracted in the living room when I heard the truck start out back. My Dad had one of those huge old Pick-up trucks. I went flying through the kitchen on to the entry way with my sister in hot pursuit trying to stop me. Then it happened.

We had one of those old screen doors that SLOOOOOOWLY creaked shut with a sudden BANG when it closed the last 6 inches or so. Well my fingers happened to be in the hinge area when BANG! it closed. My sister ran through the house to stop my parents before they pulled out of the driveway. Words were exchanged and included but are not limited to:

"No she REALLY is hurt!"....."If this is another stunt..."......"I don't know but there is blood!"..."If this is a game (insert hell to pay speech again)"

Meanwhile I pull my hand back to see that I am squirting blood out of the spot that my finger WAS located before. The top fingerprint part of my index finger was also gone. A sliver here and an entire knuckles worth on the next finger!

Parents come back...find finger on the outside of the door...pack in ice my hand and (now) extra finger...off to the ER we go...but first I hear this: "I don't want blood in the truck let's take your car"..."The truck is blocking my car in let's just go!"....several more exchanges and we end up taking the car. Not just any car but a 70's model Ford valiant..Forest Green no less.

On the way to the hospital was one of the few times in my life that I ever saw my Dad cry.

We didn't have to wait long to be seen as time was of the utmost importance now. So they take me back with my Mom to check things out, see if it can be reattached etc. A one point they tell me they are going to "take a picture of my hand" on this blue sponge. I asked them why. The nurse replied that they needed to see if it was broken. Given the fact that I have always been a smart-aleck you can imagine my response to this. I looked at the nurse and she said it again, I looked to my Mom, back at the Nurse and finally back to my Mom and said, "If she can't tell that by looking at it I want somebody else!" In my mind it was obvious as it was missing from the top knuckle up and the bone WAS STICKING OUT!

They reattached my finger and fixed the other finger as best as they could taped them down and sent us home. This is where it takes another turn.

Think of the picture above and visualize this: They taped my pinky finger, ring finger, index finger and thumb down so they would not irritate my middle finger. I didn't know what this symbol meant but when we went to the town fair that evening all the teens and others kept doing it back to me.

Today you would not know unless I tell you. I finally around the age of 25 or so got a real fingerprint back on my index finger and the middle finger has a scar but it is where the knuckle lines are anyway. Most of the time I have feeling in the end of my finger but the nail doesn't always grow with the rest of my fingernails.

So know you know another random fact about me...