When my hand met the chainsaw, I was just finishing up the trailer load of dead elm, working quickly so I could get to a noon appointment. I had stolen this sunny morning to try to get the woodpile in shape. It always feels good to steal a morning and cut a load of wood. Don’t ask me why.
I was heating up beneath my old Carhart, so I shucked it. Shucked too the nice leather gloves with real alpaca linings that would have saved my fingers had I left them on. Now the trailer was full and there were just these branches to deal with. I’m greedy about anything wrist-sized. You can never have too much kindling. I have this nice little overhand chainsaw with a 14-inch bar. The thing really cuts. Of course it’s easy to get careless when you’re in a hurry.
When my hand met the chainsaw, I wasn’t sure how bad it was. You know how that goes. Maybe it’s bad, but maybe it’s not so bad? Best just to put the glove back on and get home, which is what I did.
In the ER during stitches the nurse said, “You shouldn’t be in a hurry,” and I said, “When was the last time you weren’t in a hurry?” Then of course I had to be thankful that it wasn’t worse. Every time you have an accident you have to be thankful it isn’t worse. I have this great Polish doctor who always says that in his Polish accent. “It could be worse.” It could have been. And I’m thankful it wasn’t. I guess.
I’m Chris Fink and that’s my perspective.