TWEEZERS? Oh...maybe not.

Picture of Shed from last year

Friday was a nice warm day here in Michigan.  The kids were outside running around and riding bikes, having a great time just being kids.  It was one of those spring days that put a spring in your step and a song in your heart. 

Vinze had headed up a squad to clean out the old shed so they could have a fort, of sorts. It took hours to sweep, wipe and pitch the shed into cleanliness, but they were diligent and the work paid off. .

The shed began to sparkle as much as an old shed can.  The old ratty rug now looked like a cool mat under the fold out table and the plexi-glass windows glistened in the sunlight.

As the day wore on, Vinze realized that he could go garbage picking on Tuesday nights to find old bike parts.  He decided that he want's to use the shed to make bikes.....just like Kazz used to do.  That set the tide in motion to hang old bike tires, round up tools and begin making space for the parts he hopes to find this week.

The day was beautiful.  The kids were busy and happy, which meant that I was busy and happy inside the house too.  As the hours wore on, I heard Vinze, through the back door, yell in to see if he could build Macy a dog-house with the old wood he found in the shed.  I gave my permission and he set off to design the humble abode.

It wasn't long before I heard the back door open again.  I was folding clothes and pitching garbage out as Vinze's voice rang through the house once again.

"Hey Mom?!"

"What buddy?"

"Can you get this out of my finger?"

'hmm...tweezers...where are they...' came my thought.  'but, what's up with this? He doesn't ask for my help often...'

"Sure, buddy." I answered, "Let me see."

He walked through the kitchen, rounded the corner of the dining room and placed his hand out to show me his predicament. At first, I thought he was holding a screw, but then, I realized...Ouch!!  

I tried to pull it out, but it was stuck pretty tight, with the threads placed firmly under the skin.  I tried again to pull, gently, but as I felt the pressure of the threads raise his skin up, it dawned on me that they may actually be inside a tendon or vein or some other vessel unknown to me.

I then proclaimed that we must go to the emergency room....much to Vinnie's dismay.  He turned white.  Those poor little Italian cheeks had lost their red glow.

We arrived at the emergency room and asked the women at the front desk if we should be there or go to an urgent care somewhere.  They took one look at his finger and declared that we were in the right place.  We were shuffled right back to admittance.  The 3 male doctors all came in to ooh and ahhh over the injury.  They were all smiles. Many tales of old injuries and cool little-boy-antics were passed around the room.

Vinze was not amused. They asked him how this happened.  He explained that he was sitting on the ground, building the dog house but had to get up to grab something.  He placed his hands behind him, to quickly push off the ground and the screw popped into his finger in a snap. 

They ordered an x-ray...with much fanfare about how Vinze would have something to show his buddies. I declared that it didn't look that deep and wondered, aloud, if they could just pull the thing out.  They were "concerned" that he may have hit bone.  There was a "great need" to see the thing inside the finger....  They explained that he would get a shot to numb the finger when they pulled it out and then left the room.

Vinze was getting queasy.  I was a little annoyed with the male fraternity feel of this situation, though I did think it was a bit cool that he would get to leave with the x-ray in hand.   His little soul was aching with the knowledge that shots and more screw jiggling of the finger were coming his way.

We waited.

After about 15 minutes a calm physician entered the room.  She saw Vinze's white little face, and asked the nurse if there had been x-rays ordered for this injury.  The nurse nodded.  The Doctor looked at my unamused face, smiled and said, Let me take a look. She noted that it was just in the fat pad and began to gently maneuver the metal screw to pop each rung out one by one, side to side, until the object was out.

Vinze squinted and scowled, but was quite stoic.  He held very still while she pulled. The finger looked a bit odd as the skin stretched up and the pointed end of the metal screw pressed this way and that, against the inside skin of his finger during the extraction. Then, it was over.

"Do you want this?"  She asked.
"I never want to see it again." Came Vinze's reply.

And with that, it was trashed.

After 3 minutes of washing, lots of talk about letting the wound heal and a prescription for antibiotic, we were out of there and home in time for dinner.  WITHOUT pain shots, x-rays or gnashing of teeth...no thanks to the frat brigade.