Today I want to show you the index finger of my left hand, and tell you a story about this finger.
Once upon a time, an idiot ran out of ideas on what to write in his blog. So he took a photo of his index finger. Then he made a blog post and attached the photo in it. The End…
No… of course not. I’m just kidding. That’s not the story, LOL! 😀
I want you to look closely at my index finger. Can you notice how it is slightly deformed near the tip? And can you notice the two indistinct lines in sort of a V shape? I’m going to tell you the story of how my finger became… that.
I was three years old when this happened. You see, back then, we had an exercise bicycle at home, set up in our front yard. Now an exercise bicycle back then, in the 80s, wasn’t like what you see in the gyms now, where there is a plastic casing covering up the bottom section where all the gears and chains and whatnot are located in. Back then, an exercise bicycle was basically a normal bicycle, jacked up with a built-in stand to make it stationary.
So, one fine day, I was hanging out with the exercise bicycle all by myself. Both my parents were out working in the shop, only my grandma and our maid was at home, and they were inside the house. I was too small to get onto the bicycle to ride it, but I was easily able to turn the pedal with my hands and watch the pedal and gears spinning. Then you know bicycles have two gears, one front and one back, right? I was mesmerized with how I turn on the pedal, instead of just the back gear (which was attached to the pedal) spinning, that front gear was spinning along too. So I spinned the pedal with my hand again and again, and then I placed my index finger closer to the magical chain.
Don’t ask me what I was thinking, I was three, I probably wasn’t doing much thinking at all. Okay… I guess… I guess I just thought that the chain was magical for being able to transmit spinning powers from the back gear to the front gear. I was curious to find out more about this magical chain, I wanted to touch this magical chain. The next thing I know, my finger got caught in between the chain and the back gear and there was a super duper mega acute pain. I quickly pulled out my finger, saw a lot of blood and part of my finger dangling around.
Then I cried. I cried my lungs out. I cried like I was going to die. Actually I really thought that I was going to die because the pain was really unbearable, and my finger really seemed like it was going to drop off soon. I remember thinking that maybe the gods were punishing me for trying to meddle with magic when I was just a normal human being. Of course now I know the gods were just punishing me for being pure stupidity.
The grandma and the maid heard my cry, rushed out, saw what happened, and I was rushed to the clinic just outside my taman (residence area). I don’t really remember what happened in the clinic, but I remember my finger being drenched in lots of those yellowish antiseptic liquid, and then some stuff was being done to my finger, and then the finger was wrapped up. I remember the doctor kept talking to me, alternating between reassurances that it is going to be okay, and scolding me for being so reckless.
I don’t remember much of the details afterwards, just that there has been a lot of scolding from both my parents. They also secured the exercise bicycle in a way that was inaccessible to me. Actually they need not bother. After that incident, I stayed clear of that cursed bicycle for many years.
Two weeks later, the bandages were taken off, and my left index finger’s new shape was formed. It was incredible. My finger was dangling and I really thought it would fall off. But when the bandages were taken off, my finger was whole again. And apart from being slightly deformed, I was able to use my finger as normal. There was no “no more feeling due to nerves severed” or “cannot apply force to the finger anymore” or that kind of scary crap.
My stupidity caused this, but I guess I was extremely lucky in a sense that this happened in the late 1980s when those GP doctors in small clinics knew what they were doing. If it had happened in, say, yesterday, I doubt I can get similar treatments in a clinic. I would probably be referred to a hospital where my insurance will be sucked dry before anything is done to the finger.
And I am definitely extremely lucky to still be in possession of my full left index finger. If I had spinned the pedal a bit harder, or if I pulled my finger out a bit slower, there was a very high probability that the entire tip of my finger would be ripped off.
I guess this incident helped shape me into the cautious person that I am. Curious yet cautious. I have always been, and will always be curious about new things, about the unknown. But I would be extra cautious about turning that curiosity into actions. In fact, I would actively avoid directly acting upon any unknown curiosity of mine. If I have no choice but to deal with something uncomfortable or unknown to me, I would make sure to get as much information as I can, and prepare as many alternative plans as possible before I take the plunge. For I once took a plunge without thinking when I was three, and have suffered the consequences.
So… that’s the story of my left index finger, the story of how I almost lost part of my left index finger. I don’t know why I am telling you this. I guess it really is because I have run out of stuff to write. And maybe it is to stoke the paranoia in all you parents with who are parents to toddlers, to be extra careful with your kids. Sometimes it is not just kidnappers and thieves that you need to watch your kids from.