I had my pointer finger slammd in my mom's truck door Friday afternoon. I was at Dollar General with my two brothers and sister and I was wrestling Micah for the front seat when Elsie, being the mature one, had gotten in the backseat. I rested my hand on the side of the truck and, as it turns out, onto the hinges of the back door.
Elsie slammed her door shut.
I paused a moment, registering what just happened. I didn't feel anything yet.
Daniel later said a "ninja-like focus" came over my face as I reached over and calmly opened the door. Part of me was yelling to have Elsie open it but I quickly realized she probably couldn't hear me and by the time she had, it would've been too late. That's when I instinctively decided to take matters into my own hand.
I gripped my released hand and started crying. Elsie was telling Daniel he "better hurry!" and I could hear her asking if my finger was still there. Even though I'd clearly still seen my finger attached, I started asking the same thing.
"I don't want to look at it," I kept saying, watching big blood drops hit the pavement. Daniel told me and everyone else wondering that my finger was indeed attached. We all got back in the truck and headed to the clinic. My finger was throbbing but we were all laughing.
Now, three days later, my finger doesn't hurt. As a matter of fact, its numb and very black and blue and very swollen. At the advice of one of my friends, I started massaging it last night to get the circulation flowing in attempts to keep the tip from dying. Hopefully there will be success.