“You’re going to the hospital.”
“I’m NOT going to the hospital. There’s nothing they’d do and it would cost us thousands of dollars for nothing. Besides … we have to leave. We’re already late.”
A husband was attempting to attach the family’s camper onto the trailer hitch of the family’s truck when the trailer slipped. His middle finger didn’t make it out of the way and got caught between the ball of the trailer and the top of the hitch. When family members helped him pull the camper back off of the hitch, they saw a lot of blood. Then the last portion of his middle finger dropped from inside the trailer hitch onto the leaves.
The wife raised her voice. “Get in the truck. We’re going to the hospital.”
The husband wrapped his bleeding finger in a Brawny paper towel he had retrieved from inside the camper. He raised his voice louder. “YOU get in the truck. We’re going to the CABIN.”
“Paul, don’t be silly. You’re bleeding. The tip of your finger is sitting on the ground. If we get to the hospital quickly, maybe they can reattach it.”
“They’re not going to do anything except sew this up and charge us thousands of dollars to do it. I’m NOT going to the hospital. I’ll have Doc Welby call me in a prescription for antibiotics. We can pick it up on the way out of town.”
So the patient shows up in triage with a blood soaked paper towel wrapped around his finger. It was obvious that he’d rather be about anywhere else than sitting in the emergency department at that point.
The finger was amputated just past the distal interphalangeal joint – meaning that the tip of the finger, the nail, and the end of the bone were missing. Clean wound. There were some extra flaps of skin to the sides of the finger which would make it easier to repair the wound. I did a digital block to numb the finger so that we could clean it and we used a commercial tourniquet to stop the bleeding.
The wife softly asked “Is there any chance that the end of the finger could be reattached?”
I started to respond “I don’t think so …” when the patient let out a loud “HEH” and smirked at his wife.
“You were saying, doctor?” She continued.
“I was saying that I didn’t think so, but I can ask the hand surgeon. Do you have the end of the finger with you?”
“Tell him what happened to the end of your finger, Paul.”
“We couldn’t find it.”
“Tell him what really happened to the end of your finger, Paul.”
“Paul didn’t want to come to the hospital. I told him that you may be able to reattach the end of his finger. Paul had a temper tantrum, picked up the end of his finger, and threw it into a field. Isn’t that right, honey?”
Paul folded his arms and looked at the opposite wall, maneuvering his tongue to pick an imaginary piece of food from a tooth. He pretended he didn’t hear what she had said.
So I called the hand surgeon. He came down, looked at the patient’s finger, and arranged to send the patient to outpatient surgery to repair the injury.
Just as the patient had predicted, he was probably charged thousands of dollars to sew up his finger. He was discharged later that day.
For the rest of the day, I kept thinking how that husband and wife dispute ended up in a draw. They were both right. The wife was right that he needed to come to the hospital for evaluation, but he was right in that the surgeon probably wasn’t going to do much except sew up the injury.
OK, I also wondered how many times during their vacation that the husband held up his hand and waved the dressing on his injured finger in front of his wife’s face … as in “see which finger I injured, honey?” … but the irony of their argument was still pretty compelling.
This and all posts about patients may be fictional, may be my experiences, may be submitted by readers for publication here, or may be any combination of the above. Factual statements may or may not be accurate. If you would like to have a patient story published on WhiteCoat’s Call Room please e-mail me.