Steve has had a few recent farm injuries that made me stop and say, “Hmmmm.” Except for the last one, which made me stop and say, “Hmmmm…let’s go to the clinic.”

The first, (and most classic in the manner it was treated) was a thumbnail smashing event that involved a tool and a tractor.  I was talking with Steve on the phone in the evening and he said, “I smashed my thumb with a hammer today, got a blood blister and had to drain it.”  So I’m thinking that he came into the house, found a needle, heated it over the gas stove to sterilize it, got it nice and hot and then drained the blood blister there in the comfort of the kitchen. But here’s what happened instead…Steve found a nail, heated it with a blow torch, then stuck the nail into his thumbnail, draining the blister and carrying on with the day.  (He did note that when he went mountain biking that evening, he couldn’t shift with his right thumb…).

Two days later, Steve was working on laying concrete for our new cooler.  I’m not exactly sure what happened next, only that he peered into a hole to see what was happening (safety glasses?  nah…who needs safety glasses??)  at which time, cement dust blew into his eyes, leaving them red, watering and thinking we’d need an opthamology visit for the next 36 hours. Ay yi yi.

Lastly, Steve and a couple of our guys were working hard to get our new cooler built.  The cooler is metal, fiberglass, etc. Steve managed to slice open his index finger with a nice serrated cut that left a two inch gash.  His wide-eyed staff graciously did the heavy lifting for the rest of the afternoon. When I came home that night and looked at the cut and said, “How about stitches?” he visibly paled and said that he would “…think about it.” The next day at noon, the sides of the cooler now up and placed, we made arrangements to go into our local medical clinic to get a professional once-over of Steve’s finger, and to his relief, that doctor stated, “Since its been over 24 hours, stitching isn’t recommended because of the risk of infection”.  I could see Steve do a little jig and we (I)went home with the confidence that Steve’s finger would be all right without being stitched up.

All of these incidences made me think: A farmer and his first aide treatment…Oh My!!

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