I work at a system parts company. Basically, that mean we make parts to help in every day. We make car parts for car makers, and surgical parts for hospitals. I started September 22, 2009. I had just graduated and desperately needed a job because my parents were threatening they would not pay for college. I was desperate and decided to get a job along with them. At first I started by sorting parts, making sure the parts passed the long list of inspections. Then, after a couple months I was promoted to a belt sander position. They were these big machines that belt sand parts basically. Parts go through, get belt sanded, washed, and then coated with a type of chemical so they do not rust. It was pretty tough and demanded a work out from hell. Let us just say I was toned more than I have ever been in my life. The belt sander I was working on was deemed as the "Bitch" because it was the toughest belt sander the company had. In my mind she was possessed. Seriously, she was crazy and unpredictable. I was intimidated, but not scared of her. Just intimidated. I worked on her for several months and never had any serious problems. I mean, she was dangerous, with the safety being bypassed and anyone being able to open any door even if she was running. Like I said, intimidating. Very.
In January, I was officially hired on and had a three month probabtion period. I was excited, because I was working, getting very good money at my age and I loved the peolpe I worked with. In February was a crazy month now that I look back on it. I was bouncing around living with my parents along with my grandparents to get away every once in a while. On the week of my accident I was staying with my grandparents. The whole weekend, followed by the week I had this strong bad feeling. It was like panic attacks, but without the attack. I was panicky and scared. I had no idea why.The feeling felt as if at any moment my was was going to be drastically changed. It felt like a very, very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. My heart felt hollow and very vulnerable. Still, this bad feeling had a reason to it and I was determined to stop the feeling as soon as possible. My mom has diabetes and had a few close calls, too close. That is a whole other story that was also a part of the "hard times" in my life. I am sure one day I would write a book like that just for the sake of my life being nothing but crazy at times. So, with this panic sick feeling that I was having I felt it that it was centered towards my mom, who was actually healthy and not at all looked sick at all. This whole week I was only twenty minutes away from my mother and desperately begged my unlce (who was the source of my ride to and from work) to take me home and to stay there for a bit. Of course, he wrote off my bad feeling as nothing more than some superstitious. I was devistated and could not let this feeling go. I told my mom of my bad feeling, and promised her I would come home on Friday for the weekend to be by her side.
On Friday, February 26, 2010 I was told by my boss to reach in to the machine and to get the parts that were washed off at the wash station. This part of the belt sander did not seem dangerous, so with my poor judgement I reach my hand in to the machine. I remember this day like this was yesterday. Quite literally. I mean, it was only a year and six months ago, but to me, it was just yesterday. I was jamming away to Alesna (my favorite band of all time) to their new cd they just came out with. I was dancing around like a complete idiot glad it was Friday and that I was going home to my mom. The bad feeling was gone and I thought all my worries were behind me. I just learned that it was also my 7 months and a day with my boyfriend. I was high off life and happy for the first time since last Friday. When I reached my hand in to the machine on that Friday, my thumb was caught by a wheel that had taking my hand, arm, up to my elbow inside the machine. Mind you the space opening my arm went through was nothing bigger than a pencil. This was worst imaginable pain I could ever face. I never knew such pain, and I was not a happy camper with how fast my arm was being suck through. The first thought when while my arm was being ate by the machine, was nothing like I thought would run through my mind. I had never broken a bone in my life. Hell, not even a chip. (KNOCK ON WOOD) I thought, "Hmmm. So, this is how the hell it feels to break a damn bone. I screamed on the top of my lungs and looking back, hoping to God that somone was coming to help me. My dad was the first to the scene that I know of. A machine maintenance guy that reguarly worked on my machine was the first to turn the machine off. At the time I had no idea. I didn't even know the machine was turned off. I was in too much pain to even know what was really happening. My dad held me while the machine had lifted me off the ground. I had not yet shed a tear. I was too worried about my right hand that had been trapped in the machine.
All of a sudden I was bombarded with people all around me holding me, yelling, and crying. This is where everything went in slow motion. It felt like years being trapped inside this machine, trying so desperately to get out. Men worked hard trying to get me out of the machine deemed as the "bitch". The Bitch had me and was fighting hard to keep me inside. I heard a scream beside me. I peeked beside me and through the cluster of people, I saw my mom with an expression I never want to see ever again. I screamed out to my mom. It took five people to hold my mom back from getting to her daughter that was trapped inside a machine.
I turned to my dad who held me so gently, but yet could not have been pried out of his grasp, and whispered that it hurt. Tears fell out of my eyes and I was more worried about my mom and dad having to see me like this. I was worried why had my arm went numb, and I could no longer feel my hand. Was it damaged? Were there any bones poking out? How broken were my bones? Was I going to ever be able to use it ever again? Was my biggest dream crushed because the bitch was set out to destroy me? Was the btich even that possessed to ruin that much of someone's life? I remember while I was still stuck, the men were trying to unhook the top part, which was a magnent that transfered the parts to the next belt that had sprayed parts with the unrusting chemical. This part had to weigh over fifty pounds, and extremely heavy. When they unhooked this part of the machine to get me out, it collasped onto my arm, shooting pain that had since went numb. I screamed out in pain. Then, alas I was pried from the machine and lay down on the ground laying in my dad's lap. When I came out of the machine, I remember everyone yelling not to look at my hand. To close my eyes, and to keep them closed. It took five minutes for the men to get me out of the machine.
The pain was back and I could not stop the tears. My head phones was torn from my left ear, while a part stayed in my ear. I begged for my dad to get it out, because I could not hear well. Everything was muffled, I thought maybe I was passing out from all the pain because he kept repeating there was nothing left in my ear. While my dad held me and people were asking me questions to keep from passing out, they went to the first aid kit and wrapped my arm up to keep from bleeding. I then saw a women dressed in a fire fighters suit and thought I was hallucinating because I did not see them before. I heard the women and a few other voices ask if I had bleed at all, what I heard astonished me. I had not bleed once. Not even when they got me out of the machine and while wrapping it. The medics put a oxygen mask on me and put me on a stretcher. I was wheeled out to the ambulance and cried for my mom to be by my side. They did not let her back there, because they had to work on my arm and put an IV into my arm to give me the best dose of morphine I had ever had. (I never had morphine before, but damn it was phenominal.)
Now for the gory details, I have to remind you that this part of my experience was very elating and devistating at the same time. Contradictive, I know, but it was bitter-sweet. If you have a screamish stomach and do not like gory things, I will tell you to stop reading now. I mean, you heard the crazy part of my story, but now this is only the gory details and the part what had happend to my hand/arm/elbow.
While in the hospital I had a mixture of feelings. With the morphine, I was singing, the next I was crying. I had asked the doctor in one of my depressed moments if my hand was ever going to be able to work again. I had a dream to become an author. My right hand was vital in this goal of mine. If I was not able to use my right hand again, I was going to learn how to use my left again. These were drastic evaluations, but I had never had an injury to this significance. I had no idea what to expect from this injury. The doctor sat down next to me and told me he didn't know what to expect as well. He had no idea what to tell me. I did not blame him for the news that he had no idea. After a few hours waiting to be moved to another hospital to have plastic surgery on my palm to make it look like hand again, I found what my injuries were. My palm was only hanging by a thread to my hand, my wrist was wide open, my arm had a deep cut, and my elbow also had a deep cut. I had thirty stitched in all. I had not broken a bone, not even a chip. I had not cut any tendons in my hand, or arm. It was a complete miracle. I came to the conclusion I had a very loving guardian angel.
It took me a month to come back to work, three months to heal completely, and four months to complete my physical therapy. It was the most bizarre miracle I had not permantly damaged my hand, or not to lose my hand all together. I had overcome the pain, and the workout to get me hand to work again. I had my good days and I also had my bad days, but I got through it. I still do not have the full strenghth of my hand and I still get sympathy pains. It was a tough year and six months so far, but I had learned not to take little stuff for granted like the use of my right hand.
If you read this whole thing, thank you so much taking time out of your life to read my story that had changed my life, not for the worst, but for the better.
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