Surgery Sucks: A Tale of Bone, Blood, and Breathing Tubes

Have you ever had surgery? What for?

Have I ever had surgery? Yep—twice. And both times were nothing short of a damn nightmare.

The first time was when I had my pinky literally smashed off. I was working, minding my own business, and then BAM—my pinky got caught between a wall and a forklift. Just imagine the worst pain you’ve ever felt, then crank that up about 10 notches. It was instant. Looked down and there it was… or wasn’t. Part of my pinky just gone. Straight up amputated. I’ve got photos with the bone showing and everything, but I’m not going to post those here—because I’m not trying to make you puke all over your phone. But trust me, they’re nasty.

Surgery number one was all about cleaning that mess up. They had to cut back the bone, clean out the damage, and stitch up what was left of my poor little finger. Now I’ve got this weird little nub where my pinky used to be. People always ask about it. I usually just say, “Forklift won.” Gets a laugh. Kinda.

The second surgery was a whole different beast. I got pneumonia—like, the “can’t breathe, hacking up a lung” kind of pneumonia. Turns out my lungs were filling up with fluid, so they had to stick a damn tube into me to drain it. Yeah, that was fun. Nothing like lying in a hospital bed, chest full of tubes, wondering what the hell went wrong with your immune system.

So yeah, two surgeries. One involving a forklift and bone fragments, the other involving fluid-filled lungs and a giant tube. Both sucked. But I’m still kicking, still breathing (a little better now), and still missing that damn pinky.

Scars and stories, man. That’s life.