Bury My Finger At Fall Creek Falls

One of the ways you can tell you are getting old is when you tell people about your health issues past and present. It is no exaggeration to say the most bizarre things have happened to me health-wise. Like the time the optometrist said I “blinked wrong”. By the way, I can verify that if you go to a Colon-Rectal specialist and during the examination he says “Whoa!” your life will have some unpleasant weeks.

So gather around children and let me tell you about the time I broke my finger.  I learned a deep spiritual lesson from broken finger:  it hurts really bad.  I wish I could say I came up with a new hymn or praise song or at least a saying you could put on a magnet.  (Although I am proud that in this incident I did not say any swear words. Out loud. Internally I was Marine Drill Instructor.)

It was July 4, 1998 and we went to visit our friends, The Wades, in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.  The plan was to take us on a picnic and catch the fireworks at Middle Tennessee State University. This was the exact same plan that we had the year before in something I call “The 1997 Diarrhea Death March”.  Our pal, Bill, took us on a 6 mile hike and I developed what physicians refer to as “tummy troubles”. How I did not ruin our vacation is still a mystery to me.

This particular time was different. I had prepared with the proper tummy medicine.  We got a bunch of wings from "Slick Pig Bar B Q" and went to a Tennessee state park called Fall Creek Falls.  The picnic part of the story was very, very pleasant because my finger was not yet broken. 

The attraction at Fall Creek Falls is a waterfall called Fall Creek Falls. I’m not sure how long they spent coming up with that name, but hey, it is Tennessee so you take what you can get.  It was a pretty little waterfall and there is a trail that you could walk behind the falling water. This seemed like a good idea seeing it was July 4^th and very steamy. 

 

So Lori and I took our seven year old son to walk behind the waterfall. It was a half-mile walk to get to the trail to go behind the waterfall.  We get behind the waterfall and realized that although it cooled us off, it wasn’t very interesting and I’m sure I wanted a couple of more wings, so we headed back to where we came.

It is important to note that I had taken my shoes off to keep them from getting wet. So, I was walking on hot, pointy rocks barefoot.  My feet were not in good shape. The end of the trail was near but there was a little creek which separated one side from the other. Instead of trying to jump across, I stepped into the creek.

When I stepped into the creek I stepped on to a moss covered rock which caused me to slip and fall backwards. Instinctively I used my left hand to break (no pun intended) my fall. I heard a snap and I thought I broke my wrist.

I didn’t break my wrist. However, my index finger had turned black and was already swollen.  I was nauseous.

When I got over to the other side, I was in pretty bad shape for somebody with a broken finger. I showed it to Bill. He said, “I think you just jammed it”.  I replied  that the finger was black and swollen and I was about ready to heave some Slick Pig wings which all are signs of a fracture. We decided to go the Park Ranger’s office because surely they would have a first aid kit. So we walked a half mile back to the Park Ranger’s office with my finger throbbing, my stomach churning, and my feet hurting. Oh yeah, it was still only about 100 degrees in the shade.

Bill and I went into the office. Three Tennessee State Park lady employees are behind the counter. “Kann ah hep yew?” (Can I help you?). “Yes, I think I broke my finger and I need a splint”.  “Lawd, ah donno if way half tat.” (Lord, I don’t know  if we have that). Somehow, they all harnessed their massive gray matter together and called the Park Ranger.

The Park Ranger came and disagreed with Bill’s “jammed” diagnosis and concluded that the finger was probably broken. However, Fall Creek Falls State Park did not have a first aid kit. Hence, they did not have a splint.

He did have a plastic spoon. He broke off the spoon part and put the stem on my finger and wrapped it in gauze which was the only medical supply he had available. He did not have any tape except for Scotch Tape.  So my emergency first aid treatment was a spoon splint wrapped with Scotch Tape.

We walked outside of the Ranger’s office and Bill’s fourteen year old son is there waiting on us. He asked to see my finger. I show it to him and he laughs. He had never seen a spoon splint before wrapped with Scotch Tape

Then, out of a whirlwind, an electrical storm comes out of nowhere and it has air to ground lightning. I have a belief about lightning. It will make you walk and talk with Jesus. At the time, I would have welcomed it.

I never did go to the doctor about my finger. It healed nicely and you can’t tell anything ever happened to it. It only hurts when I’m around waterfalls in Tennessee.