Today was a very important day. July of last year was very difficult for me, and to make a long story short, all I will say is that I made a few very poor decisions that left me lost and heart-broken. I moved back home to Zionsville, Indiana where I started working for a grocery store in the meat department. I was miserable and all I wanted was to get away and take some time to find myself, as it were, and to reconnect with God. But I was trapped now in an horrible job that sucked what little life I had left out. However, in a round-about sort of way, I got my wish, for only three short weeks of wrapping cut meat, management decided to transfer to a different store as the only meat-cutter with absolutely no experience or training. On August 25, 2008 after about an hour and a half, I ran my hand into the saw blade and cut off the middle finger of my left hand. Being a complete stranger to this store, I had no one I could count on for help. I bandaged my hand, picked my severed finger up off the cutting table, call 911, put my finger in a bag of ice, and waited for the ambulance. And somehow managed to contact my family and few friends about the whole ordeal. I was rushed to the E.R. where I was examined and told how poor a chance I had of saving my finger, but I wanted them to try anyway. My surgery was supposed to take around two and a half hours, but ended up lasting six and a half. Little did I know that while I was under sedation, a whole score of my friends showed up at the hospital and didn't leave until I was out of surgery and in the recovery room. Needless to say that the whole experience was very traumatic. I was in the hospital for three days, my dear friends coming to visit, a few in particular never leaving, helping me cope. When I was finally released I had ten days to see if the re-attachment would keep or if I would lose it forever. The prognosis never looked good and over the course of those ten days, my finger grew darker and fetid, and I grew rather weak and sick. I knew that my finger had died and was slowly rotting. But my impatience got the better of me, I decided that I no longer cared what happened I just wanted this thing off me so that I could begin the healing process. Finally, I went back to the doctor and we decided to remove the finger that day. I was prepped for surgery, again, and was very discouraged when they told me that I was not going to be put under for the operation. It was an hour long of feeling them cutting, and scraping, and chiseling away- unbearable. While, initially, the whole ordeal seemed somewhat surreal, it was now very much a reality. I spent the next to months on disability. I have to say that if it weren't for the friends that God has put in my life this next part would not have been possible.
Obviously, it was hard. I had to completely re-adjust my life, and it was only natural that I had a few very abysmal days, but by and large, the support that I had received from everyone, gave me the strength I needed not to let this thing crush me. And not long into it, I realized that, in some very weird way, that I had gotten my wish for time. And I decided not to waste it. I spent my time reading books like Wild at Heart by John Eldredge, and some of Rob Bell's books. I met with older friends that are my spiritual guides. And so on. I decided to return to school and to re-assert myself to old dreams that I had let die out of fear of failure. It's a curious thing about fear. I grew up in my father's machine shop, and I always had a dreadful fear of losing a piece of myself- and now that I had- all my other fears seemed to wash away. So I have set out with reckless abandon in pursuit of my true dreams, and though I have no idea as to where I will actually make it, I have no fear that it will all be okay in the end.
I have ever picked my guitar back up and started the process of re-learning how to play.
So with that I say goodnight,
and happy anniversary
Jonny9fingers
Obviously, it was hard. I had to completely re-adjust my life, and it was only natural that I had a few very abysmal days, but by and large, the support that I had received from everyone, gave me the strength I needed not to let this thing crush me. And not long into it, I realized that, in some very weird way, that I had gotten my wish for time. And I decided not to waste it. I spent my time reading books like Wild at Heart by John Eldredge, and some of Rob Bell's books. I met with older friends that are my spiritual guides. And so on. I decided to return to school and to re-assert myself to old dreams that I had let die out of fear of failure. It's a curious thing about fear. I grew up in my father's machine shop, and I always had a dreadful fear of losing a piece of myself- and now that I had- all my other fears seemed to wash away. So I have set out with reckless abandon in pursuit of my true dreams, and though I have no idea as to where I will actually make it, I have no fear that it will all be okay in the end.
I have ever picked my guitar back up and started the process of re-learning how to play.
So with that I say goodnight,
and happy anniversary
Jonny9fingers