GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #275: I DON'T THINK THIS ONE'S GONNA MAKE IT

I remember when a boss at a previous job got two of his fingers cut off with a chainsaw. Perhaps I should clarify. I wasn't there. I just came in to work one morning to see two of his fingers thickly bandaged. He told me that he'd taken his son out into the wilderness to cut down a Christmas tree. He told his son to hold the tree while he capped it, but his kid wasn't paying attention. The chainsaw slipped, and my boss got two of his fingers chopped off. This guy was a real tough guy, too. He collected his fingers, put 'em on ice and drove himself to the ER, where they reattached the fingers despite one of them being "degloved." Don't Google that. It's what you think it is.


Fast forward a bit to when he'd just come back from a doctor appointment. I asked him how things were going, and he held up the index finger. He said the doctor said it was looking good. Then he calmly tapped the tip of the middle finger, the one that had been degloved. I can't reiterate enough how calmly he said this: "I don't think this one's gonna make it."


I couldn't fathom how he could have been so nonchalant about it. I'd be going out of my fucking mind. He just accepted it as a fact of life.


It made it, by the way. Both fingers healed and healed fast. The last time I saw them, they didn't bear so much as a scar, which I can't believe to this day.


Anyway, the point of this does relate to me. I remember when three different doctors told me that my big right toe had to go. I felt absolute terror at the idea. I consulted family and friends, and while they brought me comfort, they did not help me make up my mind. I had to do that on my own. It came down to the moment when the podiatrist said that either I let him take my toe, or he'd have to cut halfway up my foot in a week. I let him take the toe.


Then the toe next to it started looking bad. I didn't fuck around with this one. I went to immediate care, and to my glee they said that it was fine, it just looked ugly. Then I saw the podiatrist, and he said that I wasn't out of the woods yet. I had a ways to go toward healing. Worst case scenario: he'd have to cut off half of that toe, probably less.


When he told me that, I felt utterly calm. I didn't realize it until late that night as I tried to go to sleep, but I was channeling my old boss. My mantra became, "I don't think this one's gonna make it."


Thankfully the podiatrist said that it's looking better, but I now understand how my boss felt way back then. Maybe it was because of the trauma of the first amputation, I wasn't quite so scared of the possibility of a second. I don't know if that's good or bad. If you know the answer, run it by me.