Dominic's Fingers

"Ok, sir, that gauze should help until we can see him."

"You did notice that the end of his finger is hanging off..." I said, trying my best to be polite. 

"Yes, I did note the partial amputation on his paperwork," rejoined the triage nurse, ever the professional. Only one of her ten words made it past my eardrum to register with my overwhelmed mind. Amputated...amputated...yes, that is what they call it when an extremity is severed from the body... But somehow that matter-of-fact term infinitely intensified the whole situation in my mind. The look on Irene's face confirmed the word's similar effect on her. 

After a moment, another of the ten words broke its way into my consciousness, tempering the sharp shock  and affording a shred of hope to that hopeless word echoing in my mind...amputated...amputated. This second word broke its way in and attached itself to amputated as a most welcome and hopeful modifier: partially. Not amputated, but partially amputated. In the time it had taken those two words to establish themselves side-by-side in my brain, the triage nurse had told us to go back to the waiting room, and that we would be called when there was an opening for us in the emergency room. My mind caught up, having heard this later message and kept it on file until my executive functions were ready. We left the triage room, re-entering the waiting room. How long this time? Another hour? Dominic still sobbed uncontrollably. 

Lets back up about two hours. 

The Scene: Fry home, 11:45 am, June 29, 2014

I am just getting in the shower. I had slept in late, having arrived home from work at around 3:00 am. Everyone else is upstairs having a sort of Family Home Morning meeting in the family room. Dominic is puttering around as he is wont to do. Irene is sitting at the kitchen table, participating in the family meeting from a distance while offering food to Dominic. 

Dominic wanders over by the piano bench, and begins playing with it. The bench tips over, and Dom falls down. As this sort of things happens countless times each day with a walking and active toddler in the house, Irene takes it in stride when he begins to cry, getting up calmly to going to comfort him. Then everything happens very quickly. 

The family in the living room hears Irene scream, "There's BLOOD!", and they leap as one to Dominic's aid. By the time they arrive at the accident scene about 2.1 seconds later, Irene is in shock, and unable to respond to the situation. Dominic is screaming, and there is indeed blood on the floor, piano bench, and Dominic's hands, which had been caught between the ground and the bench when it fell. A jumble of adult hands pick up the screaming child, all trying to help, wipe him up, examine the wound, and calm him down. After a few seconds, Irene's dad (Opa) sees what he thinks to be the fingernail of the long finger on Dom's right hand popped out and pulled away from the hand. Opa says, "We're going to the emergency room", and the jumble of adult hands shifts its focus in response. 

Dom's aunt Chrissy and grandma (Oma) are key players in getting a wet cloth to hold on Dom's fingers as they work their way toward the car seat and garage. At some point, they realize that the long finger is actually partially detached about 1/2 inch from the top. Sam (Dom's 10 year-old uncle), and Jerry (Chrissy's husband), come to inform me. I throw on as many clothes as I can, and grab the rest in my hand, and sprint upstairs and out onto the driveway where I see the car pulling out of the driveway at top speed. I don't give up. I sprint on, catching up, ignorant of the sharp gravel under my bare feet. With my shirt, shoes, and who knows what else under my arm, I jump in. I find Irene in tears trying to calm a screaming Dominic, as Chrissy holds a wet cloth very firmly on his hand. They tell me that they are worried he will pull of the end of his finger if he gets his hands on it.

We arrive at the ER. The receptionist asks what the problem is. Irene, rattled, and still trying to calm Dom, says something about, "smashed his fingers". The receptionist asks no more questions, and we're told to take a seat. Dominic continues screaming. I examine the wound. The index finger is smashed severely, and the tip of the long finger is indeed hanging off. 

After an hour of painful waiting, screaming, calming, shushing, speculating, and asking questions of the receptionist (what a terrible job...), we are seen by the triage nurse. 

Now we're all caught up.

We wait another hour, plus some. Finally, we are seen. X-rays are taken, which means taking off the gauze, and trying to hold Dom still. Screaming and pain throughout. The doctor calls in an Orthopedic specialist, Dr. Pace. He is wonderful, and one of the few doctors who's bedside manner, social skills, kindness, and sensitivity match his expertise.We have now been in the ER for three hours, wondering if the chance of saving his finger has decreased because of the long delay.  

Dr. Pace explains carefully the details of the injury. He says he will put in two small stitches to hold the end of the finger back on, and that there is about a 50% chance of the finger knitting back together. He is clear, helpful, and respectful, always asking us how we would like to proceed. I help him secure Dominic with some straps for the procedure, and Irene and I go outside to wait at his suggestion. 

The procedure was a success. Dominic's hand was bandaged to protect the finger, and we went home. Several days later we had the bandage changed to a more comfortable, breathable kind. The stitches worked. Miraculously, his finger is now pink and healthy, having shed the nails and scabbing. New nails will grow in time. 

Pictures:

The first night home with the club, Tylenol, and Codeine. 

Five days after his surgery we had to go back to the Orthopedic Office because of an allergic reaction from the waterproof tape covering his bandage. We got a breathable cast instead--Hooray!

His hand after we took the whole waterproof casting off. His hand stunk terribly and looked even worse than the picture. 

The backside of Dom's hand.

The gauze of his fingers is black from the blood. 

Back of his hand/arm. Notice the bruising from his fingers to half way down the hand. 

More of his fingers

Two weeks after the surgery without his breathable cast.

The doctor said that if the finger looks like burnt bacon then there is no way they can save the finger. But Dom's finger doesn't look like burnt bacon, in fact, he was really happy to see it doing so well (the black parts are bruises and scabs).

You can kind of see his fingers, but he no longer has to wear his cast because it is all healed. The next step is the scab/nail falling off his fingers. (Though his right eye is sporting a nice Yellow Jacket sting)

This his finger tonight. All of the scabs and finger nails have fallen off. Now only the new nails have to grow back, which will take about 2 months.

I (Irene) feel so blessed that Dominic's fingers have healed so well. I am amazed at how little this person is and yet he can grow and grow and grow (just like a tumor, to quote Dr. Pace). The Lord has blessed us again with health and strength. 

P.S. This whole healing process lasted about a month from the initial accident.