28 February 2014

Pull my finger

Because Abby asked, I thought I might regale you with some of the mis-steps of my younger days.  I've been around a while and I've got the souvenirs to show for it.  You don't get this far down the road of life without collecting a few dents/dings/scrapes along the way.  

Most of those dings came early in life.  Back when I was young and stupid and didn't know any better.  Now I am just old and stupid.  Let's tally up the score so far:  

  • One fractured wrist/arm early on (playing "cannon ball" with my older brothers)
  • Concussion in grade school
  • Burned my arm (pulled a cup of coffee off of a TV tray)
  • Tried to cut my finger off at the garden shop (almost succeeded)  
  • Fractured wrist (fell while walking Velvet)
  • Broken toe (stepping over Shadow)  
  • Dislocated shoulder (prep run for half marathon
The one that always gets revisited at family gatherings (aside of when my loving brothers broke my arm story) is when I tried my hand (finger) at gardening.

Hearken back to those days of yesteryear.  Back before the internet, YouTube, Twitter and selfies.  I was a young pup and still new to the world.  I looked up to my brothers and tried to emulate them.  One sunny spring afternoon, we all piled into the old Pontiac Catalina station wagon and drove to the garden center (nursery) to get some plants and flowers for our yard.  Being all of 4 or 5, I went along for the ride.  While in the garden center, my parents were off trying to buy some bush or flowers and left us to our own devices.  My brothers, being more worldly and smarter than I. set out to explore the store.  My eldest brother found this industrial can opener device that would open cans with some sort of church key contraption.  He took several cans an commenced to "opening' them (translation:  destroyed the cans).  After a while, he became bored with such trivial matters and left the machine for other adventures.  I saw an opportunity to take over for him on his mission of general mischief (monkey see, monkey do).  While playing with the contraption, I failed to follow proper procedures (like keep out of the hands of children) and the soulless device did its task, which, basically chopped the end of my middle finger almost clean off and left me with a unique scar to this day.  The event was traumatic. not so much for me but for my mom.  I don't really recall the pain or the injury (aside of the sudden "aw shit" realization ) at the time but I do recall the the ride to the hospital.  My dad, who never speeds or had any traffic tickets. driving like a bat out of hell getting us to the hospital.  Riding in the front seat between mom and dad with my hand wrapped in towels and bandage and I was kept thinking how my mom was pissed (she wasn't).  We made it to the hospital in time for the docs to sew my finger back on with minimal damage, just an unique scar to regal my descendants.  Either the damage was not as severe as imagined or the docs were pretty damned good, but I was able to gain full feeling.  The only lasting evidence was where they sutured it back on leaving me with a small scar that I will carry forever.  They say that SCARs tell a story of life's lessons and I would agree.  Life can be a rough game that is full of twists and turns.  To me, a few scrapes along the way are just a measure of one's perseverance (or stupidity).  Remember:  a lot of memorable  events were proceeded by the words:  "Hey Bubba, watch this!"   

To quote Shane Falco:  Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory... lasts forever.


Abby said...

Impressive list! Before now, I only knew of the dislocated shoulder running injury.

When you'd confessed to almost cutting off your finger, I imagined some heroic military mishap, or an engineering-related industrial accident (although to be honest, the only ones I've seen close to that were paper cuts from donut boxes).

As a mom of all boys, I enjoyed the curious-kid-at-the-nursery story! I'm still trying to picture this contraption of torture, though. Nowadays, parents would probably sue the nursery!

ShadowRun300 said...

I have a few scars myself. Some I am proud of. Some not so much. But they all involve a story.
I knew about the dislocated shoulder and the broken toe, and it was fun learning about your almost chopped off finger. Your poor mom must have been freakin' out. Do you remember your brothers' reactions?

agg79 said...

Abby - I bet they would (sue) in a heartbeat. But that was back in the days when people were responsible for their own actions. Remember when we used to play on the monkey bars?

SR - Oh yes, I clearly remember their expressions. Oh Crap. Little brother has gotten us in trouble again.

ShadowRun300 said...

Ha! That's funny! Of course they would be upset with you for getting them in trouble! That's the way big brothers are. (Not that I had any, but 3 of my children have big brothers.)

lotta joy said...

No knife fights or punches to the jaw? WOW. A violence virgin!

Brigid said...

I have a scar on the top of the left breast. It was from a skin cancer removal that went pretty deep, but it looks like a perfect small human bite. It shows in an evening gown (which, actually, I've worn before). People try not and stare, but they do. I simply say. . "short Jewish Ninja. . with overbite"

terri said...

I'm glad you can find the humor in that memory! All I kept thinking as I read this, was how guilty your mom probably felt. Each of my kids has made a trip to the emergency room at one time or another. And the biggest thing I remember is guilt for not protecting them better. Time tends to heal the sense of guilt, thankfully. And I hope my kids find humor in their scars too.