May 2018
In the last post our fearless retirees were headed back to Marsh Harbor, Abacos, Bahamas. While the storm was clearly breaking over Fishers Bay, the weather in the direction of Marsh was a mess. With the situation in Fishers Bay moderating, if we had just chosen to do nothing and wait 15-20 minutes things could have been different. Another error - assuming things will continue on the path they are on, until they don't. Relearning this became useful sooner than we thought.
The choice to head to MH was made quickly, mostly from a desire to reach decent medical care without having to wait in line with livestock. We were more than a couple hours away from MH, but it was the largest town we were going to get to before dark. While it had a population of only about 6,000 folks we had noticed several private clinics in our walks around town.
My middle finger had swollen well past breakfast sausage and was on its way to resembling a brat. Despite everything maybe I was hungry, or maybe I'm just hungry now. Within an hour the adrenaline buzz was wearing off, and the limitations of four ibuprofen were becoming apparent. I started getting cold and was probably a little shocky. Heather got me a hoody and placed it over my shoulders so we didn't have to play any armies in sleevies games.
Heather called the marina on the VHF radio. They made space for us and had a couple folks there to meet us. I tipped them, perhaps over-generously, but it was about all I could do to help. And it came in handy as my convalescence wore on.
The doctor the marina front office recommended didn't think the middle finger was broken, but it was disjointed so far out and around the middle joint that he initially thought the knuckle had to be at disjointed, too. When asked about the pain I was mixed. Four to five with streaks of six or seven. Not fun, but not even in the same league as some of the back pain I had experienced in the past. At least not yet.
I knew that whatever pain I had felt so far was nothing compared to what was coming. The doctor was now prepared to pop it back into joint, but I wasn't. He said that since he had lost the element of surprise that he was going to do some sort of ring local anesthesia to block the two major nerves going down the finger. I couldn't look at the needle. Weirdly this hurt more than anything else, and I was clenching my left hand so hard it cramped up, but I'm sure it was better than the alternative. Before he finished the last of maybe half a dozen injections I could feel the anesthetic taking hold.
I looked away as he started getting a grip. He started talking about doing the same thing to his wife and popping it back into joint without any indication in his voice. He tried the old are you ready bit. Even though it didn't hurt that much through the local I could still feel it squish back into the socket.
He taped my middle finger to my ring finger and wished me luck. His receptionist/nurse charged me $205 for the whole thing, xrays, anesthesia, unscheduled visit, the works. I don't think I could have gotten an xray for that in the states.
A few days after he had popped the middle finger back in was it clear that the other fingers and knuckles were messed up as well, to one degree or another. Only the thumb, which was completely upstream of the mooring line, seemed untouched.
The shot below is from the waiting room before I saw the doctor. I was clearly a little punchy at this point. The lady in the background waiting for her grandchild was not impressed (but her grandchild was!). Now that I know better what I'm looking at, I can see in the picture why the middle finger was never going to be the same.
sv-hiatus.blogspot.com
