Happy Seventeenth Sunday! Well, many of you are perhaps aware by now that I had an interesting last weekend. And this bulletin article is the easiest way for me to share the story with anyone interested. But to put everyone at ease, I’ll start by spoiling the ending, which is that I’m alive, well, and on the way to a full recovery.
Last Saturday afternoon, I suffered a hand injury while working in the garage, which convinced me it was the perfect time to go research the wall paint color schemes over at Hurley ER. You know, as one does. I’m very grateful to Tim Cassady, who agreed, via impromptu phone consultation, that I should make haste and report back to him. But he went the extra mile and sent parishioner Keith Beiter to the rectory as my personal concierge. How considerate, especially since I drive a manual. Our principal, Sarah Bushey, met me at Hurley as well to get a second set of eyes on things—you know she’s good with hues and shades. They admitted me with open arms and gave me nearly five hours of inside access, and the whole affair was a complete success.
As for the injury itself, the long and short of it is that my left middle and ring fingers caught the blunt force of my workbench, which had slipped off of a saw horse and fell to the cement floor. It broke the bone tips at the end of each finger and lacerated the skin and soft tissue beyond the third knuckles. Sparing some other gnarly details, I walked away with seventeen stitches and two finger splints, plus a tetanus shot for good measure (I was due anyway), with some heavy antibiotics and pain meds as souvenirs. I’m most proud of myself for calling 911 and for not fainting at any point (go me!).
The doctors indicated several fortuitous circumstances, including no damage to the knuckles themselves or to the ligaments. The broken bone tufts, though crushed and displaced by the force, will miraculously travel back and re-fuse on their own (how cool is the body God made). They told me that the ends of your fingers are remarkably good at healing, and were confident of a full, long-term recovery.
In the immediate aftermath, huge thanks went to Fr. Anthony Strouse, who covered my Saturday confessions and Mass pretty much on the fly, and Fr. Christian, who interrupted his vacation to cover my Sunday Masses. Big thank you to my wonderful Mom, who drove from Lansing to come pick me up and take me back to my parents’ house for a few days.
As for me personally, lots of takeaways. More than I can write here. But I’m grateful to share my heart and my life with you. I’m grateful for ten digits. I’m grateful for the wonders of the human body, and for people I can turn to in the time of need. Everyone on earth, priests included: we all have our physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual ups and downs through life. Today St. Paul reminds us that all things—all things, indeed—work for good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose. Amen to that.
From Fr. Brian
St. Stanislaus Kostka, Patron Saint of Broken Bones, pray for us!