Warning: Wounds and blood.
This might not be interesting to most, but I suspect that this was a bit traumatic for me (because I’ve never been wounded this badly before), so I feel that I need to vent some of this and just get it out there.
Yesterday I got my first major damage while working with cosplay. I was cutting Styrofoam with a Mora-knife when I slipped and stabbed the knife through my hand (in between the index finger and the middle finger, and out through the top part of my palm). My first instinct was to run to the kitchen because I didn’t want to make a mess with the blood, and because that’s where we have the Band-Aids. I ran some water over the wound to clean it but it didn’t stop. I pulled out the hand from the water and I saw and felt how a stream of blood was shooting out with every heartbeat. My friend that was there with me helped me by fetching a towel and applying pressure. We talked about calling 112 (“Swedish 911”), blood was dripping out from the towel, so I called.
It was my first time calling 112, and I was put in phone-queue! A woman answered and I explained my situation, she asked if I needed an ambulance. At first I thought that I didn’t need one (I could walk by myself), but when she understood how much blood I was losing she sent me an ambulance.
The ambulance arrived in only a few minutes. While waiting all I could think about was the trail of blood on the floor that would have to be cleaned up. My brother came home shortly before the ambulance and he guided them to me. It was my first time in an ambulance. They took me directly to the emergency ward, skipping all the lines.
Soon I found myself laying on a hospital bed with a nurse cleaning my hand, preparing it for the doctor. I got local anesthesia shots (another first for me) (thee of them, at least) that hurt like hell; it felt like the needles got burrowed straight into the bones. I clenched the bedside with my other hand and stared at a Bamse-poster (a Swedish children’s book and cartoon) on the other side of the room. After a few minutes the anesthesia took effect and I lost most of the feeling in my palm and the two fingers.
I could still feel what they were doing, but I didn’t feel any pain. I didn’t want to look at it, so the Bamse-poster became my friend. However, they could not start sewing because apparently I was bleeding too much; a constant stream was shooting out of my hand (I saw that one) and the staff got my blood on their clothes. They applied a tourniquet to stop the blood flow to my hand, so the doctor could sew without getting blood everywhere. I remember that I felt something warm under my hand; I thought that they had put my hand on some special pillow (they hadn’t).
When the sewing was done and the doctor had left I dared to look back to my hand. There were blood everywhere; on my hand and arm, on the table (that was the warm thing I had felt), on the floor, on the nurse. The nurse helped me clean my hand and applied bandaging. I was then told to go to the xray, but once there it turned out that they had mixed something up and I was free to leave. My dad came and picked me up.
I got eight stiches; four per “hole”. My hand is now wrapped in bandages, I can move all fingers (slightly) except for the middle finger. If anything touches that finger it is extremely painful, which makes everyday tasks very difficult. I have a return visit on 10 days when they will remove the stitches.
At least I’m getting somewhat good at typing with only one hand.