Joined
·
344 Posts
Somebody I know well lived for the last 3 weeks with a break bad enough that the broken bone parts, while still pointing in the right direction, were offset so far that there was only about 20% contact for healing.
Today, after surgery, there is about 80% contact, and a big pin coming out the end of the finger holding things aligned.
The break occurred while climbing the banks of the North Umpqua. When the break occurred, the victim didn't make an exclamation or say anything, but just kept rock hopping and climbing around for about another 30 minutes, while we watched SSPey and some steelhead in a tailout.
When we finally got back in the truck 30 or 40 minutes after the incident, I saw a frown and a single tear as my 14-yr-old daughter said, "I smashed my finger."
Well, I guess she did. We didn't realize how bad at the time, as I kept fishing, and she did some single-hand, off-hand (left) casting for trout that afternoon. The next day the regular doctor said that all they could do was put it in a splint, and wait 6 weeks.
The regular doctor was Wrong. When the finger wasn't getting better, I insisted on the specialist. Olga saw him yesterday, and he thought it was so bad--and urgent, after 3 weeks--that he shuffled surgery schedules to fit her in today. We just came home and played cards after dinner like nothing happened, even though they used full anasthesia.
I guess I should stop being surprised at this little girl of mine. Two years ago she was torching her opponents in a basketball game, leading her team to an increasing but not huge lead. Two girls sandwiched her like a roller derby shot, leaving her on the floor briefly. She wasn't fazed, so a little while later, one of the girls--about 5'10" and 160 pounds, or about 10" and 60 pounds more than Olga--gave her a slam to the ground so hard she smashed her head and was dazed, this time. The ref kicked the offender out of the game, and asked Olga if she wanted somebody else to shoot her free throws. Olga said no, swished the foul shot, swished the technical, and then came out of the game.
One tough kid, no, one tough person. Tougher than I ever was. But then, as an adoptee, she doesn't have my relatively weak genes.
Unfortunately, both of my kids have to stay away from the water now (my son had an ear surgery a few weeks ago), so I'm without speyfishing partners for awhile. And the best part of the fishing year lies just ahead.
--Bill
Today, after surgery, there is about 80% contact, and a big pin coming out the end of the finger holding things aligned.
The break occurred while climbing the banks of the North Umpqua. When the break occurred, the victim didn't make an exclamation or say anything, but just kept rock hopping and climbing around for about another 30 minutes, while we watched SSPey and some steelhead in a tailout.
When we finally got back in the truck 30 or 40 minutes after the incident, I saw a frown and a single tear as my 14-yr-old daughter said, "I smashed my finger."
Well, I guess she did. We didn't realize how bad at the time, as I kept fishing, and she did some single-hand, off-hand (left) casting for trout that afternoon. The next day the regular doctor said that all they could do was put it in a splint, and wait 6 weeks.
The regular doctor was Wrong. When the finger wasn't getting better, I insisted on the specialist. Olga saw him yesterday, and he thought it was so bad--and urgent, after 3 weeks--that he shuffled surgery schedules to fit her in today. We just came home and played cards after dinner like nothing happened, even though they used full anasthesia.
I guess I should stop being surprised at this little girl of mine. Two years ago she was torching her opponents in a basketball game, leading her team to an increasing but not huge lead. Two girls sandwiched her like a roller derby shot, leaving her on the floor briefly. She wasn't fazed, so a little while later, one of the girls--about 5'10" and 160 pounds, or about 10" and 60 pounds more than Olga--gave her a slam to the ground so hard she smashed her head and was dazed, this time. The ref kicked the offender out of the game, and asked Olga if she wanted somebody else to shoot her free throws. Olga said no, swished the foul shot, swished the technical, and then came out of the game.
One tough kid, no, one tough person. Tougher than I ever was. But then, as an adoptee, she doesn't have my relatively weak genes.
Unfortunately, both of my kids have to stay away from the water now (my son had an ear surgery a few weeks ago), so I'm without speyfishing partners for awhile. And the best part of the fishing year lies just ahead.
--Bill
