Adam Kibbe <\/p>\n
The things I do to relate to Michael…….. Going pycho on PhotoSIG was one thing, dragging out every literary affectation in the guise of advancing \u00c3\u00acwriting\u00c3\u00ae skills yet another. And swimming in freezing lakes every October a particularly glaring example of sycophancy. But to try on self-mutilation……… Well, there\u00c3\u00add be lots wrong with that vector of worship. Which isn\u00c3\u00adt what happened, of course, but the perverse thought process took place anyway, hence this spurious start to a quick chronicle of recent trauma.<\/p>\n
I\u00c3\u00adve been building a bed for our soon-to-be-two-year-old grandson, Ivan, and two nights ago I was trying to make some round \u00c3\u00acwheels\u00c3\u00ae when I got a finger badly hacked up by a router bit. I could explain the physics, but it\u00c3\u00add be gruesome. Arguably pointless, though fascinating — the improbability of the injury is in fact tantamount to a miracle. Had any one of a dozen details been different, I\u00c3\u00add\u00c3\u00adve simply sprayed some or all of that finger about the shop like so much sawdust, and with as much chance of reattachment. Which is none. As it happens, I split the end of it off both sides of the bone from the tip past the first knuckle (almost 1-1\/2\u00c3\u00ae in on my jumbo hands). Nicked the bone on the larger cut. Rather than make sawdust, I got two pretty clean cuts, but all parts partly still attached. Miraculous.<\/p>\n
The second miracle (unless you count my wife\u00c3\u00ads breathless drive to the emergency room), was a gifted plastic surgeon on call. He arrived less than an hour after we did and left me about two hours later with what looked a lot like the finger I remember from a week ago, albeit a bit Frankenstein-jigsaw-puzzly. But \u00c3\u00actogether\u00c3\u00ae again. Some caution on what might follow — should some of the more badly damaged periphery yet die, it might leave bone exposed and necessitate some transplant grafting, which would involve sewing the damaged finger to a donor piece (maybe a flap from another finger, possibly even into my side), leaving it attached until the transplant \u00c3\u00actook\u00c3\u00ae on the damaged finger, then cutting it free from the donor site. Ornate, protracted, sorta cool, but kinda grotesque, too.<\/p>\n
And thankfully unnecessary. I just got back from my first follow up, the first look since it disappeared under bandages at emergency, and even he\u00c3\u00ads pleased with his handiwork. Some \u00c3\u00acedges\u00c3\u00ae might not pull through, so bits might yet get trimmed away. But no amputation, no transplants. Miraculous.<\/p>\n
The last two days have been an odd limbo. I\u00c3\u00adve been flat out since beginning the addition back in May, and I shifted gears into Ivan\u00c3\u00ads bed with hardly a pause. All of which came to a crashing halt in a violent moment of stupidity in my newly outfitted basement shop. Then came serious painkillers and waiting two days for a follow up examination. I\u00c3\u00adve napped more than I otherwise have all year, and while I handled some work by phone, others graciously took on some of my commitments, leaving me with my wonderful nurse-wife to pray, heal, and ponder what there was to learn from this.<\/p>\n
I learned a lot of geek-knowledge in the hospital. Dr. Jeffrey Smith, Plastic Surgeon of Chelmsford, MA, was very kind about being dragged from his home late at night for my carnage, and beyond patient with my drug-accelerated incessant denial-patter on all topics from breast implants to how much his cool magnifier goggles cost, and all manner of off-topics in between.<\/p>\n
But as I\u00c3\u00adve gazed from semi-comfy moments on the couch at home up at squirrels making winter homes high in tall, wind-blown trees, wisps of wisdom have flirted with my drug-addled mind. Michael took me to task for being out of balance. I don\u00c3\u00adt know that I concur, but his point\u00c3\u00ads worth considering. I certainly don\u00c3\u00adt chalk the damage I did myself to obsession, fatigue, haste, or anything like that. And isn\u00c3\u00adt building my own nest, to share with Tricia, and a bed to incubate the dreams of my grandson worthy of all the time I wish to devote? What else should \u00c3\u00acbalance\u00c3\u00ae that out? I can say that this is an extremely inappropriate path to justify a nap, but as a means to worhy ends……<\/p>\n
No, if lesson there is — and at times I DO feel a tug towards a belief in fate, and purpose — then it lies elsewhere. In the fragility and near-illusion of control, as entropy and the laws of physics carry on whether we pay them heed or not. In the deep regard friends can bestow when the mere communication of it is the single most important service they can render, even as they offer more mundane assistance. In the passage of \u00c3\u00actime\u00c3\u00ae as the clouds and the trees know it, not a stream in which we phase-crippled mammals can bathe permanently, but beside which we can sit and dangle our bare feet more than we do.<\/p>\n
All worthy lessons are not learned easily, and I don\u00c3\u00adt know that I\u00c3\u00adm even looking in the right place. These have been uneasy days as measured by my mind and my brutalized body, but in them I have found some ease, though I did not know I was looking.<\/p>\n
Adam Kibbe The things I do to relate to Michael…….. Going pycho on PhotoSIG was one thing, dragging out every literary affectation in the guise of advancing \u00c3\u00acwriting\u00c3\u00ae skills yet another. And swimming in freezing lakes every October a particularly … Continue reading ![\"pinch.jpg\"](\"https:\/\/mainecourse.com\/mt\/archives\/images\/pinch.jpg\")
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