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Brena Scheppmann Mr. Neurburger Eng. Comp 101-132 27 September 2011 Descriptive Essay The Nail-less Finger I awoke one early July morning to my dad hollering at me, like a coach would his football team, to get up so we could go to Greenfield to see my grandpa, who had been placed in a nursing home at an early age. I was pretty groggy and franticly jumped in the shower to try and look what somewhat decent for any possible passer-byers. I hurried out and slapped on some make-up (while they were honking at me, like a New York City traffic jam) so that I would be presentable. I took off running through the house like a jack rabbit, to get outside before they left me. At the time it just seemed so much faster to grab the side of the door and swing it shut instead of grabbing the door handle itself. This was my first mistake of a very long day. Instead of pulling out my hand to keep the door from hitting it, I left it there a split second too long and BAM the door was closed and my hand was out, but the finger nail was still stuck in the door jam. My first thought was that I just smashed my finger really hard so I immediately started jumping up and down like a middle school girl, squeezing my finger ever so tightly. When I finally pulled up to look at it I noticed there was blood all over the ground and my finger. Tears filled my eyes and I started yelling for my dad to come help me. He just sat in the truck and looked at me like I was retarded for a second until he realized that I was in serious pain. He said he thought I had gotten stung by a bee and that I was over
reacting. When he saw my finger he went into panic mode and started giving directions to all my little brothers and sisters like a drill sergeant. “Kaylea Grab paper towels, Sarah take the boys inside and watch them while we go to the hospital, boys behave and listen to your sister.” At that point my ears were ringing and everything went black but I managed to stumble my way into the truck. I don’t remember the drive to the hospital or walking in but I do remember getting back to the room and them asking me the same five thousand questions that they ask everyone when they go to the emergency room. Finally, after waiting for what seemed like forever, they came in and told me I had damaged the nerve endings and shredded my nail bed so they were going to have to put in a few stitches. Those were the first stitches I had ever needed so of course I was terrified, but the stitches ended up being the least of my worries. The worst pain I felt during the whole thing was in the healing process. They wrapped my finger up all big and pretty and told me to change the bandages every night. I wasn’t thinking about how blood dries and clots or about how the bandages would be soaking up this blood that was drying, I just thought about how I would be able to change it and minimize it before anyone at school seen it. When it came bandage changing time I got all the stuff out and happily set down in front of my dad so he could change it for me since I was down to one non-dominant hand. He started to unwrap it which wasn’t so bad until he got down to the dried blood part. It felt like the gauze had grown to my finger. He tried to slowly peel it back but it just hurt too badly. I cried and whined throughout the entire process until it was finally over. We tried buying different types of gauze and wraps to find something that wouldn’t stick so much but they all seemed to be equally painful.
After a while my nail slowly grew back, it had a little wave in it and was a slight yellow color, which the doctors told me would probably the permanent results. I gained back the feeling in the end of my finger and today it looks fairly normal. My cuticle does start a little farther back and when I get cold the end of my finger also sinks in like a crater but you couldn’t tell unless I showed you. Needless to say I always use the door knob whether I’m in a hurry or taking my sweet time, I’d rather not relive that experience if at all possible.