Lasallian Volunteers 2005-2006

Lord, The Work is Yours...

Thursday, September 14, 2006


Okay so it is 12:30 at night I should be correcting papers or making lesson plans but thats boring. SOOOOO I have thought of all the things I could do before I go to bed and finish my work and writting on here was one of them. (Then i wonder why i never get my work done) anyway I figured that some of you may have missed this story that Marshall wrote and some will enjoy it. Beware before you read it I think it is gross and I can not finish the whole thing the story has truth in it and I want to share or just have an excuse not to be doing my work.

Love and praying for you all

Behold LVers, and listen well. Here is the incredible story of Mollie's finger!

It all began last Saturday (the saturday before labor day) night with me sitting on the couch, about to take my first sip of a well blended gin and tonic. Mollie appears in the hallway looking desperate. She glances my way and then into the darkness towards a shadowed figure (BR. Dick). I hear here say something like, "I can see the bone." I noticed she is holding her hands in an odd, almost prayer like, manner. I jumped off of the couch, turned off the TV, and went to her. At first I wondered what was happening, then I see the red gloves on her hands. Then I see that the gloves are dripping onto the floor. Dick comes down the stairs with Mollie's purse and they rush towards the front door. Mollie turns and asks me to get her a towel for her hand. I run upstairs and debate with myself over the size of the towel to use. Then back down and outside.

Mollie is standing by the car with her hands cupped, like one would to catch water to drink, but instead of water, at least one cup of abnormally bright red blood rests in her hands. I could see the pool of blood rising. I asked where the cut was. She opens her hands, releasing a splash that splatters our pants and the brand new sidewalk. The index finger on her left hand dangles down off of her hand. I thought, weirdly, that if I were to barely tug on her finger it might come clean off! I give her the towel and she wraps it around her hand, and, before getting in the car to the ER, asks me to get her cell phone and drive it too the hospital. She was completely cool the whole time. You would expect more reaction from bumping your toe into a door.

I go to Jen's room. She is laying on her bed watching TV. I said, "Can you take Mollie's phone to the hospital, she cut her finger off!" Jen, dazed, gets up and rushes, still taking in the information as she goes. What did I do then instead of taking the phone? I cleaned up the blood. I figured it would be harder to do once it dried. In cleaning up the blood I was able to deduce what had happened to Mollie. By analyzing the frequency, distance, and density of the blood spots on the floor, I was able (hopefully) to accurately decipher what had happened to our misfortuned heroine:

She was holding her scissors absent mindedly around her index finger, and, in a moment of extreme emotion, pulled them tight. Thus, severing her finger. ( Actually, I later found out that she was trying to shut the window in her school classroom and her hand went through the glass) She thought, "Damn, I wont be able to finish the 5th graders math worksheet!" Then she realizes the severity of her injury and rushes out. Her first steps were eager for the door, then she hesitates, perhaps to look down at the injury. She uses her hip to push her classroom door open. Then she skips three times down the hallway followed by a slight jog. She doesnt full out run because the arm movement would cause the deranged finger to wobble in an odd and uncomfortable fashion. The intricate patters of blood splotches reveal that after turning the corner in the school hallway, Mollie either performed a one-handed cartwheel, or perhaps a more simple somersault. She reaches the first door to the house, and finds it open. The second door requires her keys. She somehow pulls the keys out of pocket with nothing but her mouth, then smothers them in read trying to turn the lock. She enters the house. Says, "Br. Dick, I need to go the emergency room." He says, matter of factly, "okay here we go!" Then we pick up with me on the couch. While in the waiting room we find out that Mollie is a professional cutter, Br. Dick drove with his computer glasses and couldn't see anything, and ran more red lights on the way to the hospital then in his whole life.

The hospital. I had the good fortune of sitting with Mollie at the hospital during her treatment. Here are some highlights. Before they examine Mollies wound for pieces of glass and a diagnostic of the damage, they shoot her finger full of Novacane. Her finger swelled up to the size of a Cucumber. The docter said something like, "I didn't know fingers got that big." While investigating for glass and whatnot, I got a real good look at Mollie's finger meat. Im glad to report that it looks sort of like puffy road kill. Actually, after they sowed her finger up with what looked like a fishing hook and monofilament, a chunk of the meat stuff was still poking out. She showed it again to me this morning. Its still popping out.

But Mollie is doing better now. She doesnt use her pain medication. She prefers to rough it like the pilgrims. Her surgery on Wednesday should get all those severed tendons in place. And the doctors think she might be right as rain by christmas! Heres hoping the insurance company doesnt try to screw her with the bill!

And, let us remember

the finger that struggled, but never quite got free.