How I Became a Left-Handed Photographer (contains graphic images..
- Apr 22, 2016
- 6 min read
Before I start this post you probably think I am about to write about falling into a river or a new image technique that went horribly wrong. In fact, this post is about a crazy, fluke accident.
About two months before this post was published, I severed my ulnar nerve - by my own ski.
It was the last run of the day in the terrain park when the blade of my ski sliced my arm and hit my nerve.
(Five minutes after accident)
You are probably asking yourself how did your own ski sever a nerve? To be honest, I asked myself that exact same question one thousand times. All I really remember is my boot popping out of my binding and my ski landing sideways and upright in front of me. When I attempted to brace my fall, my arm was sliced just under my elbow by the edge of my ski. At that moment I felt the craziest shock up my arm and into my pinky and ring finger of my right hand. At the time I didn't even know about the gash, and I thought the numbness in my hand was because I hit my funny bone. So I began to make it down the hill on one ski. Once the ski patrol pulled down the three layers of sliced clothing and I experienced the sight of a chunk of my skin hanging off my arm I though in my head "well shit" this is not good. I then headed to the Collingwood hospital with my arm wrapped in gauze, eating Doritos. As you can tell I did not know the severity of this injury. After arriving at the hospital in Collingwood we decided to drive back to my local hospital in Georgetown where they said it would be a 5 hour wait to get stitches. The injury happened at about 3:00pm and I finally got my gash stitched lightly at 10:00pm.
(Before Stitches)
(First stitches)
The doctor believed I would need surgery the next day and did not see the point in fully closing the gaping wound, only to be re-opened the following the day. At this point the right side of my dominant hand is still numb, and I am beginning to get a little more concerned. The doctor arranged a meeting with a plastic surgeon in Milton for us the next morning. So I went home and waited.
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The next morning we arrived in Milton and after many tests the plastic surgeon believed I had severed my ulnar nerve just below my elbow. He then called a plastic surgeon at McMaster Pediatric Hospital in Hamilton. So my family drives to our fourth hospital in 2 days, and we wait for 5 hours in the emergency room with a crowd of sick and screaming toddlers. Awesome! They finally moved me to a bed where we met some plastic surgery residents. They wanted to examine my cut so they stuck a needle into my cut, took the stitches out and, "ya you probably severed your ulnar nerve" he determined, then put a few stitches in to close it up again. They said I may have surgery tonight so don't eat anything, even though I didn't eat anything all day for the hope of surgery that night. They also asked if it was really my own ski that did the damage or If it was a knife fight. Ya they thought I was in some sort of duel like in the Micheal Jackson "Beat it" music video. I'm a fifteen year old teenager, does it look like I am a member of Hell's Angles?
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Surgery didn't happen that night, but at least I was permitted a Subway sandwich for dinner! I was not allowed anything to eat that morning because the plan was to have surgery later that afternoon. The accommodation was alright, other than my mum sleeping on a chair, my dad sleeping in a car and a nurse having to wake me up every few hours to check my vitals. As you might imagine, the hospital was pretty boring so to keep myself distracted from the crying babies I started to re-watch the Star Wars trilogy. Sadly, half way through the first movie I was interrupted to go and have my surgery.
They did not know exactly what they would find, so they opened up my arm to examine the damage. They told me that if they could not reconnect the nerve or if it was too damaged they would need to perform a nerve graph from my leg and use the leg nerve to rejoin my nerve ends. Unfortunately, if the surgeons did this nerve graph my leg would be numb for the rest of my life. But hey, the fine motor skills of my hand are more important than the bottom of my foot. So I might wake up from surgery with a numb foot or maybe not. Perfect!
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Waking up was crappy. They put me on a boatload of morphine so that night I was flying high...
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The next day I had to stay at the hospital so they could monitor me and check my vitals. I spent the entire day I watching the tiny hospital television in my room on the far wall while flying high on drugs. My right arm was in a massive half plaster cast from my wrist to almost my shoulder, and it was stuck at a 45 degree angle. By the way, in case you are wondering the surgeons luckily did not take a nerve graph from my leg.
(Scar #1)
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After three days in the hospital I was finally allowed to return home. But my life did not really return to normal. I had missed almost a full week of school and it was the beginning of a new semester. Not only did I have to catch up but I was also trying to learn to write with my opposite hand. At first my homework assignment looked like I was sending a letter in hieroglyphics to King Tut. Luckily my teachers and classmates were supportive and accepted a few squiggly lines as my project. I did not take as many pictures with the cast on my arm, as the camera body is meant to fit a right-handed individual. In fact, the closest I could get the camera to me was about 30cm. The cast was very limiting. For the next month life went on and my print became somewhat legible. I then got my cast off and I had a few weeks after that "free" until my second surgery. Yep, another one. The goal for this was to open up my wrist and plug a motor nerve into my ulnar nerve near my hand to give it some stimulus. This would hopefully prevent muscle atrophy in my hand. Even after this surgery they still predicted I would not get 100% movement in my hand, and it would take 9-12 months for the nerve to grow all the way up my arm into my fingers. So It will be a long recovery. In fact, I typed this blog with no feeling in a third of my right hand (I am super quick at pecking at the keyboard).
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Return of the surgeons. You know it, round two began today. But it was only day surgery, meaning that I would get to return to the own comforts of my home high for free.
(Scar #2)
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This time I only had a cast covering my hand to just under my elbow. So I could do all sorts of fun activities, from bending my arm to putting a sock on with just my left hand.
As I am writing this blog I am on the road to recovery. My cast is off and I can do almost everything I could do before. If there is anything I can take away from this is that life can change in a flash. One minute you are on on your skis shredding the terrain park, and the next your are lying in a hospital bed wondering if you will ever use your arm again. Ya it happens. But seriously, do not take the little things for granted like being able to shampoo your hair with both hands. I am also now ambidextrous, so I can do cool stuff like brush my teeth with both hands.
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