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Unread 04-22-2011   #1 (permalink)
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Default BUTCH…THE WOODWORkER EXTRAODINARE

BUTCH…THE WOODWORKER EXTRODINARE
aka Mr. Super Safety Saw User

As many of you know, I took up woodworking as a hobby a few years ago and over the years I have gotten fairly proficient at it. I have made some nice shelves, book cases, end tables etc. for family and friends.
A while back I made a toy box for my newly married niece, Tabitha. When I delivered the finished product she was that impressed with my wood working skills that she asked me to make her a kitchen island unit. I told her that since God made me good-looking instead of Rich, I would have to charge her for the materials but I would do the work free of charge. She agreed to my hard bargained terms and commissioned me to make her the Kitchen Island.
Tabby decided on a unit that was to be 4ft. long, 36 inches high and about 2ft. wide. She wanted two drawers under the counter and shelved storage space under the drawers enclosed with two cabinet doors. The counter was to be made in a stained plank type fashion with the remainder of the unit painted white. Tabby gave me free reign in the final design of the Island. I went home grabbed my ¼” square design tablet and dove into designing a custom made, uniquely designed Kitchen Island Unit.
The one thing that I didn’t tell Tabby was that I have never made drawers or installed drawer runners; nor have I ever made cabinet doors. I figured that with my near genius IQ and my superior wood working skills this Kitchen Island thingy would be a piece of cake. BOY…Was I wrong!!!

I went to Home Depot and got the wood I needed for the frame and countertop. I made the countertop first and incorporated some mahogany strips into the counter design. The construction phase of the countertop went flawlessly. I stained it and Gloss Polyurethaned it with about 6 coats….It was beautiful.
I then started on the frame of the Island unit. I followed my design drawings explicitly and it seemed that the second phase of the Island project also went flawlessly. The frame of the Island measured true and was square.
I then tackled the making of the drawers…The drawers were easily constructed in a weekend afternoon. And I didn’t even have a single F#$king Wow moment.
The first Snag in the Island Project came when I attempted to install the drawer runners and slides. I struggled with the first drawer; after 2+ hours of cursing and re-cutting wrongly measured wood I finally had it installed. I then attempted to install drawer #2…after another 2 frustrating hours I admitted that drawer #2 was kicking my ass and had me beat. I finally determined that I needed a second set of hands to properly install the drawer. I enlisted my wife’s help and the installation of drawer #2 was done in about 15 minutes.
I made a second trip to Home Depot and I got the door and drawer hardware. I decided to sheath the frame with bead board paneling and paint it gloss white. I got the paint and a sheet of ½” bead board paneling. Due to the size of my basement workshop it would be unsafe for me to cut a 4ft. x 8ft. sheet of paneling so I had the nice man at Home Depot cut the bead board panel to the sizes I needed….You can never be too safe!!!

Between last weekend and yesterday, Saturday 09-08-07 I had the Kitchen Island covered with the bead board, the corner moldings installed and everything was primed and painted with 2 coats of gloss white. I had also made the cabinet door frames and the drawer fronts. All I had left to do was route the design edge on the drawer fronts and cut and install the door panels for the cabinet doors…paint them and attach them to the island…I was almost done. I had plans to finish it up Saturday and deliver the thing on Sunday. I also made plans with my wife Rose to go to Red Lobster to partake of their “All You Can Eat” Shrimp Feast.
I did some little things around the basement and then Rose and I took off for the shrimp feast…we invited our sister in law Vikki along too. We arrived at Red Lobster around 1pm. We feasted on the various types of shrimp that was offered…I got my money’s worth. I truly made a pig out of myself.
On our way home we stopped at Wal-Mart to pick up a few items and arrived home around 6pm. I realized that I was running out of time to finish the Island so I changed into my wood working clothes and dove into it.
I decided to cut out the 2 panels I needed for the cabinet doors. I made the first measured cuts easily and quickly. I then started into making the final cut to finish the two ¼” thick panels. I admit that I was in a hurry and that I had removed the blade guard from my table saw that also contained the anti-kick back device.
I was about 1 inch away from finishing the cut on my Table saw when the plywood bound up and a piece kicked out at me traveling at an EXTREMELY High rate of speed.
One moment I was cutting along and in the next second my Left Middle index finger was in tremendous Pain.
I did an immediately visual check and determined that I still had Four Fingers and a Thumb firmly attached to my hand. I also determined that my middle finger got hit hard by the door panel traveling at warp speed. My middle finger knuckle was swelling before my eyes… it stopped growing in size when it became the size of my big toe; about 3 inches around. My middle finger and my ring finger on my left hand were also cut and bleeding slightly.
To say that my injured fingers were causing me some pain and discomfort would have been the UNDERSTATEMENT of the Century!!!! I was never in so much pain in my life. I was mentally thanking God that I still had all my fingers attached while at the same time I was taking his name in vain and coming up with new and exciting ways to use the "F" word in a complete sentence.
I hurried up the basement steps and announced to my lovely wife Rose that We were going to the hospital because I broke my finger. Rose was on the computer playing a game and accused me of crying Wolf and playing a joke on her.
I JOKINGLY showed her my mangled digits…she started hollering OH My God!!!
I informed her that I had already talked to him. I then asked her to get my sandals and wallet. She got what I asked for while I loosely wrapped my swollen, throbbing fingers with a paper towel. We hurried out to the car and motored off to Pottsville/ Good Samaritan Hospital. As we were flying up the pottsy hill I told Rose I was in trouble…She asked what else was wrong…



I told her we couldn’t go to the hospital because I didn’t have clean underwear on…I informed her that I was ‘commando’ since I was only wearing shorts, a tank top and sandals. She told me I was an a$$ hole. I corrected her saying…I was an a$$ hole with a broken finger and no underwear on. She failed to see the humor in my observations.

We arrived at Good Sam in near record time and hurried into the Emergency Room. Going to the unmanned registration counter It was determined that you registered by filling out a card with your name, time of arrival and a brief description of your medical problem; you then deposited the card into a slot cut into the counter. Rose verbalized what I was thinking…How do you fill out a card if you are hurt severely???

I/we sat in the fairly crowded waiting room to await my fate. Rose took a closer look at my injured hand with the still 3 inch swollen knuckle and asked if it was still hurting and could I Bend my middle finger???
I answered YES and Are you on Crack???

Around 8:10pm I was called into the Triage Nurse’s office…She asked what my problem was… I showed her my bloodied, swollen, bend finger and stated that I was pretty sure I had a broken finger. As the nurse gazed at my FUBARed (f%*ked up beyond all repair)Left hand she asked me if I was in pain?
I sarcastically replied that most of the fingers on my left hand were pain free but the middle finger…the one with the 3 inch around swollen knuckle was causing me slight discomfort. She asked me to describe my pain using the SMILEY Pain chart on the wall.
With (1) a smiley face being least amount of pain going to (10) being a Scowling Frowning face for the worst amount of pain. I am 51 years old and I do not describe pain levels using smiley faces; BUT I played the game and gave my throbbing left hand a #7 on the pain scale. The pain was nothing a 6 pack of Pounders wouldn’t fix if you threw in a few aspirin. She then asked me how the accident happened…I explained it to her.
She thought I touched the spinning saw blade causing the 2 small cuts on my fingers…I explained to her that IF I slightly touched the spinning saw blade on my table saw I would have assorted finger parts in a baggie and I’d be asking for crazy glue…She was not amused.
She then asked me to describe the pain I felt when the accident occurred….again using the “Smiley Chart” on the wall. I told her that there wasn’t a smiley figure on the chart to describe the pain I felt when it happened. She said “#10 is the worst” I told her that it was more like a #12 or #14 and the frowning smiley figure I had in mind would have snakes growing out of it and if you gazed upon it you’d turn to stone. She wrote down a #10 symbol.
I was then dismissed and told to wait to be called into the emergency room. I resigned myself to watching the NASCAR Race on 1 TV while watching Notre Dame lose the game on the other TV. After waiting another 45 minutes I was put into the children’s cubicle to await the visit from the Doctor.
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Unread 04-22-2011   #2 (permalink)
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Default Woodworker part 2

The Emergency Room Doctor; whose first spoken language was English, walked into my cubicle and cheerfully asked me what my problem was…I cheerfully raised my left hand and said “Broken Finger.” Dr. Goldman then proceeded to tenderly prod and probe my swollen middle finger. He asked if I was able to feel his prodding…I answered yes; he then questioned if I was able to bend my middle finger…I figured he wasn’t on Crack so I attempted to comply with his request and I actually was able to move the Tip of the mangled finger downward about one eighth of an inch. Bending my middle digit brought on a whole new experience in Pain for me. Dr. Goldman astutely noticed my pained expression on my face and asked…Did that hurt??? I bit my tongue to fight off the sarcastic reply I had on my lips and just nodded my head yes.
Dr. Goldman explained that he thought that I might have damaged or severed the tendon in my finger and he felt that the Orthopedic Surgeon should look at my injury. I was beginning to figure that I might have really messed my hand up. As luck would have it, Dr Haas, the orthopedic surgeon happened to be in the hospital.
A short time later, Dr. Haas strolled into the cubicle and gave my damaged fingers the once over. He informed me that he did not think I had tendon damage; he ordered X-rays and told me he suspected that I dislocated my knuckle. As we were waiting to go to the X-ray suite Drs. Hass and Goldman were discussing the strategy they were going to employ to correct my fubared hand.
The SURGERY word was being batted around along with talk of me being put under Anesthesia. The thoughts running through my mind kept focusing on WTF I have a broken finger….Surgery??? Anesthesia??? Nothing I ever do is simple or cut and dried;
I cannot even have a simple broken finger injury.
The ER Nurse came in and got my medical history information….She questioned me at length about the 2 fractured skull injuries I had received years ago and asked about my heart murmur; questioned when I had my last tetanus shot and when I ate last. I explained about the auto accidents when I had broken my head, told her I had the murmur from birth; I needed a tetanus shot and that I made a total pig of myself at Red Lobster.
An EKG was ordered and the nurse applied the adhesive tabs to my chest and legs for the monitor leads and attached the wires. I was still in pain but also in a silly mood so when the nurse turned the EKG machine on I started twitching like I was getting shocked. My attempts at Emergency Room humor did not go over well with either my wife or the nurse. Rose called me an a$$ hole and the nurse agreed. As they say…’Paybacks are a Bitch’…The nurse started to remove the adhesive EKG tabs from my extremely hairy chest and slightly hairy legs.
(A NOTE on the adhesive used on EKG tabs…this adhesive is made to give good contact in spite of sweat, dirt, body hair and oily skin. In layman’s terms those tabs stick to anything.)
The nurse slowly peeled up the edge of a tab…got a firm grip on it and pulled it from my body. My whimpers of Pain as 1.5 square inches of chest hair was Yanked out by the roots seemed to fall upon deaf ears. There were 8 EKG tabs!!!
(Note to self…NEVER, EVER!!! piss of an Emergency Room Nurse.)



After the EKG Ordeal, I quietly waited to meet the Anesthesiologist. I told my wife that I was a little apprehensive about the un met Gas pusher. She questioned my anxiety. I explained that I felt extremely lucky to have had Two (2) American, English Speaking; ER Doctors attend to me in a Schuylkill County Hospital. I further explained that the odds were very high that the Anesthesiologist was going to be of Middle Eastern Lineage. Rose coldly accused me of being a bigot and prejudiced.
I explained to my wife that I have a steadfast rule that I always follow when dealing with medical field employees of any type…
.I Refuse to put my life into the hands of a person with which I cannot carry on a conversation in ENGLISH or that I cannot fully understand due to their accents or their inability to master speaking the English language. I went on to explain that this simple rule has kept me alive for the past 51 years and I wasn’t changing it tonight.

Imagine my Surprise when an older American Anesthesiologist type Doctor strolled into my ER cubicle, introduced himself (I forgot his name), and asked how I’d like to be put to sleep. I answered with…”I have a choice?” He explained the different ways of making sure I would be “Comfortably Numb” while the Surgeons fixed my bent and broken digit.
I told him that I would leave it up to him as to how to keep me from feeling pain during the surgery. The gas passer then questioned me on my medical history regarding me and Anesthesia. He then asked if I or any members of my family ever had an adverse reaction to any anesthesia. I couldn’t pass this situation up…I said yes and went on to tell the good Doctor…
In 1984 my 30 year old, diabetic sister was put to sleep for a Minor, 15 minute surgical procedure at Pottsville Hospital…Pottsville Hospital’s Anesthesiologist ‘accidentally’ overdosed my sister with the anesthesia. She subsequently stopped breathing; ended up in a brain dead coma and died 2 weeks later.
After hearing my story the good Doctor came out with the Understatement of the Millennium when he said….”Boy, That wasn’t good”
I answered with “Yea…I wasn’t real pleased either.”

The Anesthesiologist assured me that nothing like that would happen to me.
In the back of my mind I was thinking that the Shrimp Feast Meal would be a fitting last supper for me if I didn’t awake from the surgery. Then I figured Only the good die young so I expected to be home free regarding the surgery. About 15 minutes later they put me on a gurney and it was…

HI, HO! HI, HO!...Off to the OR we go!

As they were wheeling me to the OR the nurse accompanying my gurney explained to me that she was to be my OR nurse and went on to explain what was going to be done to me when we got into the OR. She ended her spiel by telling me not to be alarmed but the Operating Room was kept at a low temperature…I answered with so is the Morgue.
For the third time in as many hours my attempts at Emergency Room Humor fell flat as the OR nurse looked at me strangely and kept silent.


Rose was accompanying the procession down the hall to the OR; right before we were to enter the operating room Rose stopped the gurney to speak to me. As my loving wife leaned over to speak to me I saw the worry and concern in her eyes.
Rose, holding my hand, kissed me tenderly and wished me luck. Worried about her concerns, I assured her that I would be alright. Rose lovingly looked at me and asked “Is your insurance paid up?” I told her that it was…she said OK; dropped my hand and turned to enter the near by waiting room with her book and purse.

I was wheeled into the operating room and I scooted onto the operating table. Dr. Haas was there along with some other Doctor guy. I didn’t see the Anesthesiologist around and then this female nurse type introduced herself as my Nurse Anesthetist. She put an O2 nostril thing on me and told me I’d start to feel sleepy soon. Ms Nurse Anesthetist then covered my face with the sheet covering my gown clad body. I laid there waiting to go to La La land. The next think I feel is getting 2 burning injections at the base of my injured fingers. I grunted in pain while Ms Nurse Anesthetist explained that I was just feeling a ‘little pinch’. My hand lost some feeling but never got numb. I again relaxed and waited to go to sleep. The Surgeon then started messing with my hand. I felt him working but it didn’t hurt and I wasn’t even drowsy, let alone asleep. I kept waiting to feel pain as the surgeons yakked, joked and fiddled with my busted finger. I never felt any pain and 20 minutes later I was done and being taken to the recovery room.
I was told I’d be in recovery for a ½ hour and then go to my room. I saw my loving, caring, soul mate Rose who informed me that Dr. Hass said I would make a complete recovery from my accident. He assured her that I wouldn’t need my life insurance any time soon. I received this news joyfully; Rose seemed dejected and sad; I was perplexed.
About 20 minutes later I was taken to my room.

As I entered my hospital room I noticed that my roommate’s TV was on and the volume was not muted. A few moments later I realized that said room mate was in La La land and snoring contentedly. It was about 1am Sunday morning when I was finally deposited into my Hospital bed for the remainder of the night. I was actually looking forward to getting some sleep and getting discharged in the daylight AM hours.
The floor nurse introduced herself and gave me a crash course on the array of buttons that adorned both bed rails and the hand held remote controller attached to my bed. It seems that I was lying in one of the newest hospital beds available in a Schuylkill County Hospital. This bed was a far cry from the hospital bedding I was in the last time I was hospitalized in the coal region. (Ashland Hospital circa 1985)
I called my wife over to my bedside and I thanked her for being there with me through out this ordeal, I then told her to go home and get some sleep. At that point my fingers started to pain me so I asked her to inform the nurse that I was in need of some pain meds. She said OK and gave me a peck on the cheek. As Rose was leaving the room she turned and asked me how much I was actually insured for…I answered around $60,000. For whatever reason, Rose got that dejected look on her face again and I heard her mutter “Damn” as she exited the room. I was again perplexed.
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Unread 04-22-2011   #3 (permalink)
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Default Woodworker--final segment

After my wife left, I laid in the hospital bed and awaited my pain medication. I was marveling at how comfortable the Temperpedic Swedish Foam mattress was. I was dead tired, my hand was throbbing and between the TV volume and my roommate’s snoring, I was figuring that sleep was going to be improbable. I was lying there, immobile and quiet, attempting to sleep when the nurse arrived.
She took my temperature, did the blood pressure thing (It was high) and informed me, as she injected the pain meds into my IV setup, that I was receiving Morphine for my pain.

Morphine!…I have a broken finger for Gods sake; I had a goofy, silly thought about me getting addicted to morphine over a broken finger as I waited for the Industrial Strength pain killer to kick in. That’s when I felt the Temperpedic Swedish Foam Mattress MOVE!!… All by itself.
I wasn’t touching anything or pushing any buttons on the bed rails. I knew what I felt and I also knew I was Not hallucinating from the drugs. I laid perfectly still and waited for my possessed bed to move again. About 5 minutes later I heard the electric motors subtly whine and the mattress moved under another part of my body. As I was mulling over the situation I was in with my bed moving, my room mate snoring and having sleep deprivation setting in, my nurse glided to my bedside. She saw that I was awake and informed me that it was again time for my BP and temperature checks. I questioned the nurse about the bed being haunted and could the room mate’s TV be turned off.
The nurse informed me that the bed moved on its own so as to keep me from getting bed sores and that my room mate liked to keep the TV on because it helped him fall asleep…as he was loudly snoring away 5 feet away from me.
She also informed me that my vital signs were to be checked every hour for the rest of the night. I sighed and resigned myself to the fact that I was now in a sort of Hospital Purgatory where rest and sleep were never going to be found. I asked the nurse for more Morphine and awaited Dawns Early Light so I could get out of this God forsaken place.

The second dose of Morphine had the desired effect in that my hand stopped hurting And I was able to slide through the remainder of the dark hours in a sort of drug induced, dozing state. The crack of dawn arrived with me watching it stream through my window.
I was feeling hungry and I was actually looking forward to whatever hospital breakfast Surprise was going to come my way.
Around 8am my breakfast tray arrived and an orderly placed the tray on my bed table. The table with my food and Coffee Mug was located parallel to my bed, on the right side of my body. The aforementioned table, with my breakfast and coffee resting on it, was 3 inches farther away than my IVed right hand could reach. I attempted to grasp and move the table with my heavily bandaged left hand and found that I was unable to move the table because I couldn’t get a good grip on it. The thoughts of Hospital Purgatory again entered my mind as I pushed the ‘I need Help’ button on my bed rail. I stared longingly at the steaming cup of coffee for 20 minutes when a nice hospital lady dressed in bright green scrubs came in and asked if I needed help.





I told the Lime lady that I would give up my first born, male child (If I had one) to be able to reach the coffee mug and breakfast tray 3 feet away. She maneuvered the table to me and not only fixed my coffee she also uncovered my breakfast tray and cut up my waffles, bacon and put the syrup on the waffles. Florence Nightingale also uncovered the bowl that was on my tray. I glanced at the quivering, grayish white matter it contained and asked her to hazard a guess as to what it was. She informed me that her educated guess was that it contained oatmeal. I thanked her for her help and information about the substance in the bowl. I figured that one man’s oatmeal is another’s wall paper paste. I passed on the partaking of the stuff in the bowl. I ate the bacon n waffles and washed it down with the most God awful coffee I ever tasted. I then called my wife to inform her that I was alive and well and that I was awaiting the arrival of Dr. Haas so I could be discharged. I awoke my wife with my phone call…she was not happy.
Dr. Haas arrived a bit later and told me I could go home. I asked him about going to work and he said “I don’t think so.” He also told me to call his office and schedule an appointment for Thursday. I called Rose a second time with the good news. By 11am Rose and I exited the Good Samaritan Hospital Complex and headed home.
I have spent the last 4 days coping with being one (1) handed…the things I am enduring with this temporary handicap could result in another story but I am sick of typing with 1 hand and a thumb so I doubt it.
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Unread 04-22-2011   #4 (permalink)
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Sooooooo, what happened to the Kitchen Island?

Oh, did you think you were going to get sympathy?
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I finished it 2 weeks later. I also made her a seperate cutting board with a matching kitchen clock. Everything turned out really nice.
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LOL Great story! I really enjoy your writing.
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Unread 04-22-2011   #7 (permalink)
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Bet you'll leave that anti-kickback guard on there from now on

My dad had something similar happen to him about three years back, for the same reason, tho he didn't actually break his finger, just severely bloodied them.


EDIT.....................Merged posts.. don't think we need three separate threads for the same topic


Good thing you fully recovered from that.. And tho the story isn't that funny on one hand, your humor made it absolutely hilarious
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After reading the story I couldn't help but give you a hard time!
I very happy that everything turned out well. I'm glad you're ok and that it wasn't even worse! You do write quite well.
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