Lessons From a Missing Left Hand

So I was nine years old and it was Saturday. The rain had made the track and field day at my elementary school a wash. What's a boy to do with his time? I called Kelly Lott, my tomboy best friend, and the two of us hit the back yard for a great adventure in the jungle. Me Tarzan, she Jane.

It didn't take long before we were taking turns skinning the cat on the low branch of the middle tree of three in the jungle on Mary Jane Lane. It was wet, I lost my grip and fell about five feet to the earth below.

Crack!

What's causing that burning sensation? Why does my arm feel wet? Then I saw it. My arm was broken - compound fracture - bent at the wrist and elbow at a 90 degree angle and blood was flowing freely from my left arm. (Sorry queasy folks!)

Kelly was already positioned behind the tree and I could hear her repeatedly saying, "Ooh, Gross! Ooh Gross!"

Kelly managed to find my mother and within just a short time I was on the way to the hospital in the back of her father's station wagon with my mom holding my arm wrapped in a towel.

The pediatrician looked at my arm and declared, "We should probably operate. A break like this isn't good and we need to make sure that everything is OK in there."

The orthopedic surgeon examined my arm and said, "If we go in we will probably cause nerve damage. We are going to clean this boy up, set his arm, give him some medicine and in two hours he will be home on his couch recovering."

Two hours later I was at home on my couch, a cast on my arm and already a few signatures on the plaster. That was Saturday.

Sunday - I don't feel too good. I'm starting to get a fever.

Monday - The fever had increased and we went to the doctor. After a quick exam the doctor told my mother, "This is to be expected after a bad break like this. His body is reacting to the trauma of the break. Here is some medicine. He'll be fine!"

Tuesday - Somebody turn on the air conditioner - it's hot in here. The fever and pale, white hand didn't look too great and so off we went to the doctor. While I waited in the waiting room, the fever spiked and I went into convulsions. Houston we have a problem!

It was a mad dash after that and within a very short time I was in the operating room. Two surgeries later within the day and by Wednesday they had to amputate my left hand.

Gaseous gangrene was the diagnosis. A bacteria in the dirt from my back yard entered into my arm when the bone stuck in the ground and came back in. The bacteria was anaerobic (grows under the condition of no oxygen) and thrived when they sewed my arm up.

I was a sick puppy and I came very close to dying!

So what's the lesson?

When bad things happen we usually hear two voices. One tells us to open it up and deal with it. The other tells us it will be too painful - cover it up and move on. Broken places, wounds, sins and faults covered up spread like gangrene and destroy us.

Open those areas up, air them out with someone and let the light of truth start its healing process. You might save a relationship that way or you might save a part of you!