great

What a fun weekend this is turning out to be. On Friday I was on my way to German class when I fell off my bike. It was a perfect "oh shit" moment... I had some good music playing on my MP3 player (it was U2, but I can't remember the track), and all of a sudden the bike just wasn't there anymore. The path through the park that I was cycling on had been heavily gritted from the snow over the last few weeks, and the snow had melted. It must have been bold enough to freeze water though, because I think I slipped on some. After falling onto my face I picked myself up and immediately checked to see how many teeth I had broken. There were none, but my hands came away covered in blood, and then I noticed my finger. That it was broken wasn't in doubt as it was hanging at a strange angle and wouldn't move for me. I had also cut deep into the knuckle (the first one from the tip).  The cut was deep enough that I could see bone, and a couple of pieces of gravel just to add flavour to the mix.  The other hand was lacerated to hell and back too, with most of the skin from the palm left on the ground.

I phoned Anna to let her know what had happened, and to ask her to get one of her parents to take me to the hospital.  Then I went home to try and get cleaned up as best I could.  Lest you think I’m exaggerating here, the trip home was eight to ten minutes long and I apparently still dripped blood on the floor at home.  I haven’t been home yet because they kept me in the hospital overnight for observation, and apparently they want me to stay until Monday.  Fuck that. They also cleaned and bandaged my chin, and stitched my upper lip.

Anyway, after getting cleaned up here, the doctor scheduled me for surgery on the finger to get it cleaned out and potentially repaired.  That was going to be done under local anaesthetic so as to keep things simple.  As is my wont in cases like this, I pestered the surgeon (apparently one of the best hand surgeons around) with questions about what was going on.  He wouldn’t let me watch when I asked, because the surgery was already underway and I wasn’t sterile.  Actually I was a fucking mess at that point, with bits of grit still in my hair.  There is now a piece of titanium wire holding my finger together, and you can see it looping out of and then back into the end of my finger.

So now its 14:30 and we’ve been waiting for the surgeon all day.  The other guy in the room with me had a skiing accident, and we were laughing that I never even made it as far as getting to the damn piste before ending up in hospital.

<later/> I can go home.  The doctors don’t entirely approve, but the environment at home is far more conducive to my sanity to be home instead of sitting in bed in a white hospital room for the next two days.  All that is going to happen is that they’re going to change my dressings anyway.  I’ll post more ad soon as I’ve got a few hours to type it all.