The Sewing Needle Incident

Elaine was sewing Friday afternoon and lost the needle. Being an optimistic person, she assumed it did not land in the sofa after searching for several minutes did not disclose its location. Friday night, she found the missing needle when sitting into the sofa with her left leg curled under her bottom. The blood curling scream was of sufficient intensity that I immediately sprang to action running about, asking questions and generally not being of much help. In my defense, I must say that I was quietly surfing the Internet, researching stocks, and the sudden change of subject was quite disconcerting.

After a few minutes of discovery, we decided the best course of action was to go to the emergency room. Being new to the area, and not yet having "dug our well before getting thirsty", we weren't really sure where an emergency room was. Elaine was adamnt on two points, we needed to hurry and we must go to someplace other than Grady. I pointed out that the personnel at Grady, one of the better trauma centers in the nation, would certainly have lots of experience with wounds, stabbing or shooting, and experience certainly counted in situations of this kind.

Elaine, however, was unable to see the logic. We started off in the general direction of Dekalb Medical Center which we found without trouble, driving about having settled me down and Elaine was too busy with her pain.

By the time we arrived at the emergency room, Elaine had decided that despite the pain, she would survive after all and was actually becoming somewhat cheerful, considering the circumstances. She especially relished recounting her story to each and every medical person who, in the nature of medical people who are unable to read the chart which was so laborously prepared by the admissions people, asked "What happened to you, Hon?"

The emergency room physician, a nice competent appearing woman, attempted unsuccessfully to remove the needle. I was the assistant, holding Elaine's hand and at times holding the x-ray image to help the physician visualize the needle's location. The physician, knowing her limitations as well as the ubiquity of hungry lawyers loitering about town, decided to foist the case onto an orthopedic surgeon. She did say it would probably be a simple office procedure but she did not feel comfortable doing it herself due to the number of tendons and other sensitive structures in the area of the wound. The physician's name, by the way, was Monet. When Elaine expressed chagrin concerning how she had managed to arrive at her current state, Dr. Monet entertained us and comforted her with a story or two about men, their toys, and some of the types of foreign objects and their locations she had seen as an emergency room physician.

The orthopedic surgeon decided, during the office visit on Monday, that the procedure would best be done in hospital. Elaine elected local anesthetic rather than a spinal. The surgeon appeared to be quite unconcerned about the procedure, a fairly straightfoward one.

Tuesday, we arrived at East Side hospital. I helped Elaine undress and then dress in one of those embarassing hospital gowns, the kind where your butt sticks out if you're not careful how you walk. They wheeled her out to the operating theatre for a thirty minute procedure. An hour later the surgeon, stepped into where I was waiting reading a book about the construction of an Ageis missle destroyer at the Bath Iron Works shipyard, gave me a prescription for a pain killer, and told me they had removed the needle. He did mention it was a bit harder than he expected and the needle had lodged in the tendon sheath on the outside ankle.

A few minutes later, they wheeled Elaine in, her face red and puffy. I knew immediately that things had not gone smoothly. It turns out that the needle had been much harder to find than expected. The local anesthetic had not sufficiently blocked the pain and Elaine had had a very lousy time. The assisting nurse had been a real trooper comforting Elaine during the procedure and the poor surgeon hadn't had much fun either. Elaine said that if she had to choose between doing the nine months and giving birth to octuplets without drugs or go through another ankle session with only a local, she'd do the octuplets any time.

Anyway, she is feeling much better today. She is healing up, the pain of the needle is gone, and she has me to wait on her hand and foot. Right now, she is listening to a book on tape enscounced in the reclining chair.