HAVE GUN, WILL HURT MYSELF

Click here to return to the 1999 columns.

I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life. Shooting myself in the hand is right up there with the best of them.

Fortunately, it was just a pellet gun. Unfortunately, I still have a pellet lodged in my hand, apparently for good.

It started out innocently enough. I was out of town visiting with my friend Preston. We were at the apartment of his brother, who has more guns than the Israelis. Preston and I began discussing gun control. Preston is an avid collector of guns, so I find it is a lot of fun to antagonize him by saying things like, "You know, I think that not only should all guns be registered, but all gun owners should be forced to have their left arms amputated, have a tattoo that says ‘I Love Mariah Carey’ on their foreheads, and be forced to walk around town singing ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’ at the top of their lungs."

So Preston and I were having one of our discussions on gun control. This is where I’d like to have some great story about how a band of crazed communists stormed in, and I shielded a little old lady from harm’s way by diving in front of their fire, absorbing the spray of pellets in the palm of my hand. (Granted, if we are invaded by people carrying pellet guns, it shouldn’t be hard to defeat them. We’ll just send some neighborhood kids to take them out.) No, instead, I ignored the warnings of everyone from my father to Charlton Heston to Batman to anyone with an ounce of common sense -- a gun is always loaded. I pointed the pistol at my hand and, boom -- instant emergency room visit.

Right when I pulled the trigger, I felt a searing pain in my hand. Just positive that the gun was not loaded, I turned to Preston and said, "Uh, Preston, should air make my hand bleed?" And, to make things worse, my wife, who had been in the other room, happened to enter just as I asked that question. Really no way to weasel out of this one.

In a matter of moments, we were at the hospital. It is really disheartening to enter an emergency room under the classification of "gunshot wound" and have to wait. I really thought I would get some expedient service. Turns out the classification "patient is an idiot and shot self in hand with a pellet gun" doesn’t really hold much weight. (Just a side note -- while in the ER, hospital personnel had to take a gun from the car wreck victim in the bed next to me. Kind of ironic, huh? While being treated for a gunshot wound, I could have been shot.)

After the better part of a decade, a doctor finally came and saw me. He told me that there was nothing he could do, as the pellet was deep in my hand and he just didn’t really care. OK, he said he wasn’t trained for hand surgery, but I also think he was lacking in the care department. He suggested that, when I returned home, I call a hand surgeon. Really? A hand surgeon? You don’t think an obstetrician would do the trick, Doogie? In case you can’t tell, I wasn’t very fond of that doctor, especially after all he would give me for the pain was a prescription. A prescription!?!? Where’s my intravenous injection of Tylenol No. 357? Knock this pain out, doc! I’ve been shot! I don’t have time to hit a Revco.

Two days later, I returned home. I called my primary care doctor and told him what had happened. Sadly, he didn’t even blink when I told him that I had shot myself. Doc has come to expect it. He must wonder what I do in my free time to show up with the kinds of injuries I do. "Oh really? Swallowed an entire rake? Hmm. Ok, come on in."

He referred me to a hand surgeon, who agreed to see me that day. When I checked in, a nurse asked me what I had done. "Shot myself in the hand with a pellet gun," I said. She looked at me, and then wrote something on my chart. I think it was "Idiot."

They had me fill out all of these different forms prior to seeing the doctor. One of the forms had the following question: "How long have you had this pain?" I answered, "Since I shot myself in the hand." I figured it would be the only time in life I would get to write that. (Note from wife: It better be, bub.)

The doctor examined my hand and my x-rays (which nicely outline the pellet in my hand) and told me that it wasn’t touching anything vital, and he suggested leaving it in. "Leave it in? Are you nuts? I want this thing outta here, doc! Get cutting!" He then described the surgery, and how he was going to cut open about half of my hand and peel back the skin, part away the nerves, and dig around for the pellet. He also described the months of rehab involved. "Leave it in! Are you nuts? There’s nothing wrong with having a pellet in my hand! Put that scalpel away!"

So, it looks like the pellet will stay in my hand. I know that this could have been a very serious thing, and I am truly thankful I got my Don’t Be A Moron Lesson without serious damage to myself or, worse yet, others. I did a stupid thing, and I know it. I think that we should take this opportunity to seriously consider some common sense gun legislation. For starters, let’s make it illegal for me ever to touch one again.