Deep Wound

Tuesday 26^th of April, 2011

I saw something that most people never see, and if you see it on yourself, something is seriously wrong.  The subcutaneous fat layer of my thigh saw the light of day briefly before being flooded by blood and wrapped in a towel.  Arriving at the dock with intentions of an afternoon sail during my day off, I sat down and relaxed while observing a game of backgammon.  In due time, the host returned home and we prepared for our departure.  Being the last one on the dock, I made sure to get my belongings securely over the rail before attempting to climb aboard. 

With the high tide resulting in a step up over the rail and the pitching boat creating a moving deck, I grabbed the hand of another passenger to help myself onto the boat.  Once my right foot was securely planted on the deck, I stepped off the dock on and swung my left leg out and over.  Be it a different pitch, or a lower trajectory, my knee came into contact with an unfinished stanchion.  Relatively hard. 

Immediately I knew something was wrong, but was not concerned until is saw that subcutaneous fat layer exposed.  As I learned from an EMT, this part of the body lies below both the epidermis and the dermis.  It is the last layer before muscle and all of the accompanying parts like veins, arteries, tendons, etc.  I saw a globule of what I can only imagine as fat.  Luckily, the bow of the boat had been pulled so close to the dock that I went directly back onto the dock, never coming close to falling into the water.

If that were to have happened, I am sure that the nurse sharks that just finished circling a cleaning station would have come after me with vigor.

Back on the dock, safely, I whimpered for help.  According to people who were there, I was the most passive exclamation for help that anyone had ever heard.  It did not start to bleed immediately, so people were confused as to why I was laying down with my leg elevated.  Seconds later the blood came and people realized it was serious.  A second boater retrieved a towel from his boat and applied pressure.  Others from my group carried me inside. 

I took one look at the wound during this time and knew for certain that it was bad news.  Not only was it wide, it was deep too, and there were definitely going to be stitches coming.  Being on Cape Eleuthera, the nearest clinic was 15 minutes away, and there is no guarantee that the doctor would be there, or that they would have the supplies needed to sufficiently handle my wound.  The medical team went into action, getting sterile gauze pads, wraps, and tape to attempt to stem the bleeding.  As I got into the car, I asked my roommate to collect my passport and wallet, because who knows where I might have to go to get this thing fixed.

Our first stop was the Wemyss Bight clinic where I waited alone for 45 minutes before the nurse and doctor realized that they did not have the appropriate stitches to handle my case.  Because the cut was so deep, they needed to have dissolvable stitches.  We moved on to the Rock Sound clinic, another 10 minutes away by car.  Compounding my frustration and pain, I was not given a pain killer or aspirin because it thins the blood.  In Rock Sound, my stitches were overtaken by a woman with chest problems who was having trouble breathing, and a baby whose coughing had not allowed her to sleep for three days. 

Finally, at 6:45, a full 3 hours after the incident, the doctor went to work on getting me sewn up.  Once the wound was cleaned through basically dumping an alcohol mixture on my knee, the first step was a painful injection of lidocaine.  Then two more shots were administered after the anesthetic had set in.  Four carefully placed stitches went deep into the tissue.  An additional 10 stitches went on the surface.  After four hours I got back in the car and got to chow down on a conch burger with macaroni and cheese and some french fries. 

Back on the Cape, I went to a reception that was supposed to be followed by a movie.  The movie could not be broadcast due to a faulty internet connection, so instead, my injury was the main attraction.  I heard stories of how ghostly my face had been and how no one believed I was injured initially. 

In total, there are 14 stitches in my leg right now.  There will be a wonderful scar when this heals.  And I cannot be in the water (including boat support and showering), for 2-3 weeks.  Luckily though, I should be able to participate in the 4-mile Super Swim at the end of May.

WARNING: Picture........