The Garage Door Incident

The Garage Door Incident 

For months we had been boarding up the garage every night—four large pieces of plywood strategically screwed in place—while the garage door lay in carefully labeled pieces on the slab of the living room floor in anticipation of the day we could finally reinstall it. Every morning we unscrewed the plywood, loaded it on the tractor forks, and hauled it to the side of the driveway; and every evening we repeated the process, in reverse. This went on for several months and we were growing increasingly tired of it.

But finally the day came when the new construction was ready to receive the garage door. Piece by piece we hauled it to the garage, and piece by piece, Kevin measured and leveled and screwed all the parts in place. Happily, our wonderful neighbors, the Fugers, showed up just as we were about to attempt the tricky part—the mounting of the tension cable.

With everything nearly in place, Kevin took a moment to work on the wiring for the garage door opener. In the demolition phase, we pulled all the plumbing and electrical, so everything now has to be rewired. Sue had walked into the main part of the house, and a few moments later Kevin came around the corner clutching his wrist and calmly stated, “We need to go to the emergency room; I cut an artery.”

Everyone’s eyebrows raised, but no one said anything other than, “Okay.” Sue grabbed a towel (just in case) and as we were driving away Terry Fuger called out, “We’ll close everything up.”

So, off we went to the local hospital, Kevin maintaining strong, steady pressure on his wrist. He insisted on parking in the visitor parking lot and walking into the emergency room, and Sue acquiesced since she could tell he was not pale, nauseated, or in any obvious pain.

One thing we learned from this adventure is that you don’t have to sit and wait in the ER waiting room if you are splattered in blood, holding your wrist, and you tell the receptionist you cut an artery. No waiting, indeed! All they ask is your name and birth date, and they usher you right in.

When the nurse asked to see the wound, Kevin hesitated. “Um, well, the last time I let go of it, blood squirted across the room.” Later, based on the splattering of blood on his body, the garage wall, the electrical box, Kevin’s tools, and the floor, we estimated that the artery spurted three times before he got it covered. His razor knife had slipped, and though it was a small cut, it jabbed right into the ulnar artery.

But now, as he cautiously uncovered it (and everyone in the room ducked) it was only gurgling. The nurse instructed him to keep it covered and apply pressure for another 15 minutes, and then the doctor would take a look at it. As she left the room she said, “And by the way, if your hand starts bleeding and blood is coming out your fingernails, push the call button.” Whaaat? Gulp.

But 15 minutes came and went and no such gruesome thing happened. Kevin began to regret going to the ER and wished he had just waited to see whether the bleeding would have stopped on its own. But somehow waiting to see what will happen when an artery is squirting like a squirt gun just doesn’t seem like a viable option.

When the doctor came in he explained how the wonderful way God made our bodies includes two arteries to our hands, because our hands are so important. In most people, the blood vessels in the hand are connected so that if one artery is compromised, the other artery can supply adequate blood to the hand. However, for a minority of people that is not the case, so he needed to do a test (the Allen test) to see whether further treatment would be necessary. He put pressure on both arteries and had Kevin clench and open his hand several times until it was white. Then he released the pressure on one artery. He said if Kevin’s whole hand turned pink, that would mean the blood vessels in his hand are connected and he would be fine. We’re not sure what would have happened if half his hand had remained white, but the whole thing turned pink, so we were able to leave the hospital a short time later with just a Band-Aid on a little ¼-inch cut that by this time had stopped bleeding completely. He was told to take it easy for a day or two because of the risk of the artery re-opening.

As we left the hospital, Kevin was still questioning whether he should have gone in at all, but both of us were relieved and grateful that in the end it was a minor incident, a mere bump in the road.

On the way home, Kevin turned to Sue and said:

“Don’t tell anyone about this.”