The Bloody Finger

I think I should write this down as a slice of my childhood. That was a autum day where I was still in junior high school, all I want is a better bicycle and photographic memory (so I can pass exam easily). Uncle Thomas was in town that day.

I came back home from school just like any other oridinary school day. My father was working on the machine in the garage. My mom was chatting with Uncle Thomas. Out of blue,my dad walked into the living room with his left hand holding his right, blood was springing from his enclosed left hand and dripping on the floor. My father said "Give me a cigerrate, I think we need to go to the hospital.". I remember my mom slipped into floor and Uncle Thomas held her up. I came out from my room and witnessed the whole bloody scene. I fetched the car key for Uncle Thomas and they were rushing to the emergency room.

I was left alone in the empty house, with blood all over the floor from garage to the living room. My mom's rigid house clean training kicked in. I picked up the table cloth and mop, started to clean up the blood from the first scene, the machine in the garage. As I cleaned the blood from the steel debribs, I found the top third portion of my father's pinky finger. I think my father and I had never been that close since my childhood. I took the lifeless, meat-like finger to the sink and let the water wash away the dirt. I read in reader's digest some people's limbs were saved that way (reader's digest is only good at that time). I wrapped the finger in tissue paper, put it in my back packet and jump on the bike, riding as fast as I can to the hospital.

They saved my dad's ring fingure, but the pinky finger I sent cannnot be attached because the bones and muscle were threaded. We put it in the perservative filled glass bottle and save it in the fridge so we can scare and disgust our guests once in a while. It might be lost when we moved house a couple of years ago.