The first night and my fingers throbbed all night, the antibiotics and strong painkillers made me feel sick, and delight of delights I had to look forward to the task of changing my own dressings twice a day, just to make myself feel even worse by looking at it! If I didn’t feel sick before I certainly did after! I wasn’t given any dressings at the hospital (NHS cuts no doubt!), so thought I had better make a trip out to get some. Of course now I can’t drive so its walking everywhere. It’s amazing how difficult it is to get dressed, sticking your arm through your sleeves without actually touching your fingers is a work of art, and as for pulling up your knickers! Well! With the use of only my right hand, they have to go up in stages, you pull up one side with the right hand, you lean across to the left and with the same hand, whilst trying not to bash the dodgy hand, you try and pull up the opposite side. Its not easy, and those pants just don’t feel right all day! I realise it will now take hours to get ready! I can’t do my hair so just stick it up in a clip! Glamour has gone out of the window. Even doing that with one hand is difficult.
Eventually I go out with my arm in my sling. A guy cycles past me, turns round and comes back and says “what have you done to yourself?” I explain I chopped the top of my fingers off whilst trying to cut the hedge. After a sharp intake of breath, and a facial grimace which could out do gurning, he says “I think you should get your partner to do that for you”. Now if I had fancied him, I might have said I don’t have a partner, but I don’t say anything! He then says “well if you need any help cutting your hedge I’m your man”. To which I reply “my dad is going to sort it for me”! He then tells me the story of his father in law who chopped off the end of his little finger whilst working at a saw mill, apparently only half of his nail now grows back. Little do I realise that this is the start of the never ending stories about chopped off fingers, and the extreme facial expressions!