On June 15th, I cut the tip of my left index finger in a table saw. I am right handed. I was home alone and dialed 911. The operator was in Gray, over an hour from here, and she got Shapleigh rescue on their radios. In addition to all of the “important” information, simple chit-chat with the dispatcher helped keep me from passing out.

I barely bled at all. Theories range from cauterizing action of the 3800 rpm blade to my body's natural reaction to trauma. I also didn't feel the initial cut (a piece of bone hit my head, which I felt). I don't remember what happened; some built-in defense in the brain.

The cut was more parallel to the finger than across, but ti was compound angles and probably some other sideways type damage. To think of it like my hand was cleanly cut like a table saw is supposed to do to a piece of wood against the fence is to totally miss the kinds of complex angles involved.

We live in a small town and our rescue is all volunteer. I worried it would take a long time for help to arrive. I can say I believe it took a little longer than if we lived in town, but I thought the response was very fast. The responders are neighbors, and seem to genuinely care about the folks in our town. I was being tended to in the back of a Kia when the ambulance arrived.

They loaded me in and we were off to the ER, about a half-hour ride in normal circumstances – probably 20 minutes. The pain was building, but really wasn't a 10, probably a 4. The EMT (Doug if memory serves – I'm bad with names) told me they might be able to salvage my finger, or they might take off the rest of the first digit. I felt seeing as little of it as I could bear to see that cutting the rest off was likely. I thought Doug was just trying to give me some hope, which I think is part of his job at that point.

At the hospital, I don't think they were busy as I had what seemed every nurse, aide, and orderly at my side. An EMT was working in the ER; I think it was some kind of cross-training. I was thankful he was there, because he plunged the IV catheter in one shot. The other nurse had tried and failed several painful times, and that spot sometimes hurts worse than the finger.

I got drugs, x-rays and a new bandage. I was to call an orthopedist in the AM to make an appointment. What?! OK, they are the doctors. I called the orthopedist's office from the ER waiting area – and left a message. When Amanda picked me up, she started calling and hitting every possible voice-mail code until she got a person, who told her I could be seen on Wednesday. I took the phone from Amanda and let the person on the other end of the line that I'd AMPUTATED the tip of my finger and there was no way I was sitting around in an ER dressing for two days. If there is anything that I'm disappointed about it's the terrible lack of communication.

Dr. Frank Goudreau eventually called me and said he'd discussed my case with the ER doctor while I was in the ER. He hadn't seen me or my x-rays (was in surgery), so he had no medical opinion about my case but I might not need surgery, and even if I do, He might prescribe allowing some healing first to improve the outcome. I told him that I felt it was unlikely to NOT require surgery and I wasn't going to sit around until Wednesday without someone at least looking at my finger and putting a stitch in it.

Dr. Frank said he'd look at my x-rays and call me back. When he did, he asked if I could come in at 8:30 the next morning and he might need to do surgery, so don't eat or drink anything after midnight.

Getting me around was going to be a problem. Amanda had to work Tuesday. I had seen the surgery load on the whiteboard. Dr. Temm wasn't going to be able to do that much surgery and see Amanda's appointments. I called my friends Tom and Mal. Tom agreed to get me from Waterville Dr. office to Sanford hospital. I thought, “Wait. Mal is retired.” I called on a friend I've known only a few weeks and bummed a ride. I am blessed to have friends like Tom and Mal.

Amanda dropped me off at the Dr. office at 7:30 and went to work. I read in the waiting room of another office for an hour, then went to see Dr. Frank, a half hour before his normal opening time. Thank you to Dr. Frank and his staff.

After soaking off the bandage, Dr. Frank had a look and told me he could save much of my finger. In fact, I might be the only person to notice something isn't right in just six weeks. Finally some useful information; I felt like a huge weight was taken off my shoulders. He didn't call it an amputation, but an “open break.”

I called my good friend Mal who picked me up to take me to the hospital. He brought Star, his Setter that I've been helping him train. Star's face lit up when he saw me, and I'm sure mine did too. If they let you carry a “security blanket” on days like this, I'd have had a dog with me all day.

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I sat at the hospital most of the day reading my Edmund Ware Smith books. Hint to folks from away, we can hear you. One woman was complaining the hospital was weird, her husband saying this is a small town and to be thankful they don't live here. I've been in small town hospitals in Maine. None are weird, and many are smaller than Goodall. If you find our hospitals weird, or our restaurants hours not to your liking, I'm sure you will be happier back home.

In the afternoon, I checked in and was whisked downstairs to surgery. Dr. Frank was running late, the hip fracture that was more urgent than my hand was pushed back due to a spinal fracture that was more urgent than both. You know, if folks just knew why they were waiting, I think they would be happier to wait. The subterranean day-surgery area is not an outstanding feature of the exterior of the building, but it was pretty cool on the inside.

The staff was all very nice, and Dr. Frank checked in as he breezed past. Before my surgery I had a few questions, but the two big ones were:

1. How many more surgeries would I need? None, this is it.
2. Was today (the day after the accident) the worst pain, or tomorrow (the day after the surgery)? Tomorrow will be worse than today.

The surgery was done with a local under sedation. I requested (and received) deep sedation. I remember very little from the time before I was wheeled to the surgery suite until they brought me out. I remember being awake enough to help get into the proper position in the surgical bed.

I had the dressing changed yesterday and looked at the finger. It's not pretty, but it will look like a finger. A bit shorter, and less perfect, but I don't think it's the first thing people will notice about me.








The pain has been tremendous. I'm managing now on Tylenol and a little boost from prescription drugs. The slightest touch to my finger sends a shock of pain all the way down my spine. I'm back to sleeping in bed.

I really want to thank everyone. Amanda has been very patient with me and picked up a lot of slack around the house. I've been short with her sometimes feeling a victim or expecting her to read my mind. Without Mal, I don't know how I'd have gotten to the hospital, he's stopped in to make sure I'm OK too. Tom has been a true friend and neighbor too. The medical folks and rescue team were truly wonderful. I have had an outpouring of support from family, friends and total strangers. I thank you for your support and prayers.

I'll keep you updated as well as I can on the blog. Answering individual calls and emails is really tough.