For those of you who need catching up, lets start with the incident with my hand. The first week I spent in Alaska, I was joined by my father, and much fun was had. More on that later. But in the first few days we were here, one of the things we did was take an hour boat ride to Shelter Creek and set up the lodge’s tent camp. It was just Oliver and my dad and I, and we got the big tent set up, caught a fish, and were getting a quick meal together. It was around 10 pm or so, and Oliver gave me a filet knife to cut potatoes. He told me to be careful, it was sharp… and I remember thinking, “hmm, this actually isn’t very sharp” and also, “this is probably a bad idea” as I used it like a paring knife to cut the potatoes directly into the pot (who needs a cutting board, we were camping!)
You can probably guess what happened next. I pushed too hard and went right through the potato and into my hand, in what looked like a botched attempt to remove my thumb from its fellow fingers. I quickly closed my fingers together and said something to the effect of “oops” and “I think it’s bad”. Oliver said, “well let me see it, it can’t be too bad because it isn’t bleeding much”. So I took a deep breath and opened it up to show him and my dad, and Oliver took a good look and a deep breath and passed out. My dad looked from him on the ground, to me holding my wound, and took charge. The first aid kit was, of course, missing, so good ol Peter our Leader whipped out a clean (thanks pop) handkerchief to wrap me up with. Not after first rubbing the cut with an ice cube first, of course. Then to make sure I didn’t accidently open the thing up again, we wrapped it with some medicinal grade electrician’s tape. Awesome!
That being about all that could be done for the time being, Oliver finished chopping the potatoes, we built a fire and went to bed. The next morning we were lucky enough that a plane just happened to land on our beach to drop off some fishermen for the day, and it was headed to Soldotna. My dad and I jumped on board and headed off to the hospital. The ladies there were very impressed with my dad’s first aid, but not impressed that the wound was more than 12 hours old. Apparently they usually won’t stitch you up after that long, but I cut myself in such a vulnerable place, they said it would take forever to heal if they didn’t.
Four hours of waiting and five stitches later (if we had got in before 12 hours, I could have had 10 or 15!) we were done. Luck being on our side we got a ride from a friend of Oliver’s and grabbed some food and some beer to take to the lodge, then got on the plane a flew back!
So, with strict instructions to keep my hand dry and away from infection causing fish, we went halibut fishing the next day. Hurray! And a few days after that, I caught the second biggest fish of the season (the biggest being the 76 pounder I caught in June, ha!) one handed. Oliver had to braid my hair for me, and the first week was frustrating because I couldn’t grab anything, but now all is well and healing nicely.
Moral of the story, “don’t hurt yourself in the middle of nowhere”. Or, “don’t use a filet knife to cut potatoes”. Or… something like that. :)
You can probably guess what happened next. I pushed too hard and went right through the potato and into my hand, in what looked like a botched attempt to remove my thumb from its fellow fingers. I quickly closed my fingers together and said something to the effect of “oops” and “I think it’s bad”. Oliver said, “well let me see it, it can’t be too bad because it isn’t bleeding much”. So I took a deep breath and opened it up to show him and my dad, and Oliver took a good look and a deep breath and passed out. My dad looked from him on the ground, to me holding my wound, and took charge. The first aid kit was, of course, missing, so good ol Peter our Leader whipped out a clean (thanks pop) handkerchief to wrap me up with. Not after first rubbing the cut with an ice cube first, of course. Then to make sure I didn’t accidently open the thing up again, we wrapped it with some medicinal grade electrician’s tape. Awesome!
That being about all that could be done for the time being, Oliver finished chopping the potatoes, we built a fire and went to bed. The next morning we were lucky enough that a plane just happened to land on our beach to drop off some fishermen for the day, and it was headed to Soldotna. My dad and I jumped on board and headed off to the hospital. The ladies there were very impressed with my dad’s first aid, but not impressed that the wound was more than 12 hours old. Apparently they usually won’t stitch you up after that long, but I cut myself in such a vulnerable place, they said it would take forever to heal if they didn’t.
Four hours of waiting and five stitches later (if we had got in before 12 hours, I could have had 10 or 15!) we were done. Luck being on our side we got a ride from a friend of Oliver’s and grabbed some food and some beer to take to the lodge, then got on the plane a flew back!
So, with strict instructions to keep my hand dry and away from infection causing fish, we went halibut fishing the next day. Hurray! And a few days after that, I caught the second biggest fish of the season (the biggest being the 76 pounder I caught in June, ha!) one handed. Oliver had to braid my hair for me, and the first week was frustrating because I couldn’t grab anything, but now all is well and healing nicely.
Moral of the story, “don’t hurt yourself in the middle of nowhere”. Or, “don’t use a filet knife to cut potatoes”. Or… something like that. :)
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