As you can imagine, such a blade has the potential to wreak havoc on fingers. I felt the sting of 10,000 paper cuts, then almost nothing. I yelled for my wife, then started walking into the house and up the stairs. I don't normally yell, so she was quick to know something was wrong. She met me with some towels and then started getting herself and the kids ready for a trip to the ER. She told me to get into the car right away, in case I passed out. I didn't think that was likely, but I did walk out onto our front deck, which isn't a way to the car...so she might have had a point.
The purpose of this post isn't to give you a play-by-play recap of our trip to the ER, so I'll be brief... X-rays showed no bone damage, and I could still move the joints, so it was just a flesh wound. The PA shot some local anesthetic into my knuckles, let it kick in, then cleaned me out and sewed me up. I left with prescriptions for pain meds and antibiotics, and mummy fingers:
Most people I tell about this can relate to cutting their finger with a knife, perhaps in the kitchen. They say they can't imagine how much more painful it is to be cut with a power saw. What I say next usually surprises: It didn't really hurt that much. Honestly, if the pain of 10,000 paper cuts had been continuous, I'd have been writhing on the ground screaming. Our bodies have an amazing ability to shut out pain following trauma. I suspect the event was more traumatic for Brandi and the kids. This "shock" is so we can function well enough to get care. (Full disclosure: The Lidocaine injections into my knuckles hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.) Shortly after we got home (via Chipotle and CVS), I'd eaten and taken the first of my pain meds, which were described as "double-strength Vicodin;" I was feeling pretty good. (Chipotle always does that for me.)
Sermon time: Pain is our body's way of saying, "Stop that!" or "Don't do that again!" I didn't need to continuously feel the pain to know that it'd be a good idea to avoid touching moving saw blades in the future... Pain meds (IMO) are not intended, and should not be used, for the complete removal of pain. Thanks to the meds, I wasn't in a lot of pain during my first week, but that doesn't mean I felt good. Narcotic pain killers are serious stuff. I was depressed. I was tired. I didn't eat right. Basically, I felt like crap.
I had back surgery in 2001 and was given a narcotic pain med prescription afterwards. I didn't even finish it out of fear that I'd get used to it. I found myself being able to relate to people who get addicted to pain pills since it would have been so easy just to keep taking them... My recent injury simply re-affirmed that relation. I could have had my prescription refilled, but I didn't want to. I wanted to feel the pain. It is (has been) manageable -- occasionally distracting, but not so much so that I truly need narcotic help to reduce it. Because pain is a form of behavior modification, I think it's important to feel it. There are certain things we just don't do (or as often) because it hurts.
The problem with not feeling the pain is that you stop being able to feel anything. We need to feel. Feeling is good. Even painful feelings, as long as they're manageable, are better than none. I've been describing physical pain, but I believe this applies to emotional pain as well. Pain is a learning experience. I believe in natural consequences as a learning tool and it doesn't get more natural than pain!
I have learned that I need to protect myself better when using my saw, and will come up with tools, rules, and strategies to make it so. Perhaps you were (or are) in a relationship with someone who causes you pain, and you need to find a way to protect yourself better, too. Deadening the pain just makes it easier to justify repeating the behaviors that led to it. I say FEEL THE PAIN! Then, learn from it and come up with ways to avoid it, or at least minimize its impact. As Westley said, "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." Don't buy it! Feel the pain and live your life!
