katrina insert story #1: Burt Fish
I’ve purposely kept this small drama out of the blog because I know my mom checks the blog and I knew she’d be upset. (Hi Mom). But I also feel like it needs to go in the blog because I’ve been so negative of late, and this is evidence of small kindnesses done on my behalf.
One of the last nights I was at New Smyrna Beach, it was rainy. Around 10pm or so, I headed back to my room to go to the bathroom and I slipped on the wet stairs to my room with a wine glass in my hand. The glass shattered, shearing a huge flap of skin from my right pinkie finger. My social self took over. Blood poured from my hand, spattering the deck, the door, my shoes. I retreated to the bathroom and left a trail of blood behind me. I locked myself in and tried to rinse it off, not wanting to use the white towels. Jason happened in to the room around 10 minutes later, after I’d wrapped it in layers of Band-Aids. He insisted he should take me to the emergency room, but I argued. He was the host at the workshop. I told him I could walk to the ER (just three blocks away) if I needed to, but all would be fine, blah blah. Instead we hit up one of the workshop participants for some gauze and tape and we wrapped it up good and went back to the gathering. Around midnight or so, blood dripped from the bandage to the porch floor, so Jas piled me into the car and took me to the tiny ER.
We got there and waited and waited. Finally, Ellen from the Burt Fish Medical Center (to whom I owe a thank you note), saw me and said I needed stitches. She sent me to the check in area, and the woman there freaked when she heard I was from New Orleans and fed me answers as I checked in, trying to make the insurance thing as painless as possible (I hadn’t yet received my insurance card for this year). Around ½ hour later, Ellen came back and said that there had been a car accident and that there were only two doctors on duty and both were needed. She said it could be as much as 6 hours before I could be seen. So Ellen, against all hospital protocol, cleaned me up, put some sort of magic bandage on my hand and told me to leave it on for five days. She talked to the insurance lady and the two of them decided to delete me from the computer so I wouldn’t be charged for anything.
Five days later, Randy, Jason’s dad, who has some medical training, took the bandage off and rewrapped it. And now I have a somewhat deformed pinkie, but it’s all good. High drama for a girl who’s never had stitches before, never even (knock on wood) broken a bone. Small act of kindness.
One of the last nights I was at New Smyrna Beach, it was rainy. Around 10pm or so, I headed back to my room to go to the bathroom and I slipped on the wet stairs to my room with a wine glass in my hand. The glass shattered, shearing a huge flap of skin from my right pinkie finger. My social self took over. Blood poured from my hand, spattering the deck, the door, my shoes. I retreated to the bathroom and left a trail of blood behind me. I locked myself in and tried to rinse it off, not wanting to use the white towels. Jason happened in to the room around 10 minutes later, after I’d wrapped it in layers of Band-Aids. He insisted he should take me to the emergency room, but I argued. He was the host at the workshop. I told him I could walk to the ER (just three blocks away) if I needed to, but all would be fine, blah blah. Instead we hit up one of the workshop participants for some gauze and tape and we wrapped it up good and went back to the gathering. Around midnight or so, blood dripped from the bandage to the porch floor, so Jas piled me into the car and took me to the tiny ER.
We got there and waited and waited. Finally, Ellen from the Burt Fish Medical Center (to whom I owe a thank you note), saw me and said I needed stitches. She sent me to the check in area, and the woman there freaked when she heard I was from New Orleans and fed me answers as I checked in, trying to make the insurance thing as painless as possible (I hadn’t yet received my insurance card for this year). Around ½ hour later, Ellen came back and said that there had been a car accident and that there were only two doctors on duty and both were needed. She said it could be as much as 6 hours before I could be seen. So Ellen, against all hospital protocol, cleaned me up, put some sort of magic bandage on my hand and told me to leave it on for five days. She talked to the insurance lady and the two of them decided to delete me from the computer so I wouldn’t be charged for anything.
Five days later, Randy, Jason’s dad, who has some medical training, took the bandage off and rewrapped it. And now I have a somewhat deformed pinkie, but it’s all good. High drama for a girl who’s never had stitches before, never even (knock on wood) broken a bone. Small act of kindness.
posted by M at 10:22 PM
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