George Rebane

Last night I almost contributed a part of my left middle finger to our dinner salad.  Jo Ann assigned me the task of slicing up some salami left over from the puu-puus of a recent dinner party.  I thought I was rated for the task; apparently not.  With blood all over the place, I fit the piece of sliced finger back in place, sort of like I do when glueing the thin piece of shower soap onto the new bar so nothing goes to waste.  Anyway, with my finger wrapped in a bloody dish towel, we were off on our first visit to the emergency room of Sierra Memorial, our local hospital.

Going through Stations 1 through 3 we dutifully filled out the forms and talked to a couple of very cheery reception and first stage assessment people.  Everybody got a good laugh about my dumb trick and the news that the salami slicer would soon be in one of the emergency care stalls rippled through the facility.  Dinner time is a slow time we were told, so everybody wanted to stock up on light comedy before the drug cases start rolling through after dark.

Soon I was sitting on an examination table with Jo Ann in a nearby chair reading me jokes from the duty copy of Reader’s Digest issued to every ER facility.  The doc walks in with a grin, ‘So, let me get this straight, you were slicing salami for a salad, and you did what? – let me take a look at that.’  News travels fast.  ‘We’re going to have take that slice off and clean up the mess, before we figure out how to put it back so it holds, wanna have shots first, they also hurt?’  Oh yes!, always take the shots, moving slabs of raw flesh and stitching a capella hurts a hell of a lot more.  After lots more one-liners from the nurse and ER doc, we were on our way home with a stitched finger and instructions for its care and feeding over the next week.

Both of us were impressed with our ER facility and the folks who operate it.  The careful reader at this point will conclude that we probably did not stress the system.  True enough, and there’s more to be said about that.  Our ER facility is over thirty years old and currently overflows from the main building out into a huge double trailer called the ‘Quick Care’ facility.  When things start hopping with drug abusers, traumas from our large elderly population, and the normal mishaps of a busy and vibrant community, things quickly get crowded and the system starts to strain at the seams.

We were told that there is a program underway to raise funds for upgrading our ER and Ruminations will update you on the progress of that.  Jo Ann and I are supporters of the hospital and invite all of you who can to join in this effort.  Sooner or later almost all of us who live here will bring someone or be brought through those doors in dire need.  It will most likely be for something more serious than poor knife handling skills in the kitchen.

And we close with some deeper wisdom, citing Gracian #145 (Fischer translation).

Do not exhibit your sore finger; for all to strike upon, and do not complain of it, for malice always pounds where it hurts the most.  No use to get angry, for this will only add to the general amusement; evil intent goes sneaking around to uncover the infirmity, and prods about to discover where suffering is greatest, in a thousand different ways, until it hits the spot. …