Care for Katie Campaign

On Monday, November 14th, I was working away in my woodshop, trying to finish up my Cedar display trays for our local Eastside Culture Crawl on the upcoming weekend.  I was on the last tray of the stack when a coworker walked through the door.  I looked up from the table saw I was using and felt something kickback, and that alarming feeling of warmth poured over my hand.  I knew immediately something was wrong.  I cried out, "Oh no!" and looked down at my hand to realize my worst nightmare had happened.  I screamed like I have never heard myself scream before and I immediately grabbed my hand to tourniquet the three fingers I cut off.   My coworker rushed to my side, squeezing my hand in his.  We scrambled for my phone and called 911.  He sat me down and spoke to the operator as another coworker arrived to work, opening the door to a shocking scene.  He gathered my fingers from the table, and got them into a cup as the Firemen arrived.  Followed by the EMS Captain and finally, the ambulance.  By this time, a few of the other artists in the building had heard what had happened, and rushed down to be by my side.  A friend helped me up and walked me to the ambulance post haste.  My adrenaline was pumping, and all I could focus on was getting to the hospital as soon as possible.  I arrived in the ER of Vancouver General Hospital, and the plastics team was quickly called in, and I headed into a 10 hour reconstructive surgery.  The team of surgeons I had were only able to reattach one of my three fingers, taking my middle and replanting it onto my index, mainly for functionality reasons.  I woke up sweaty and groggy, not knowing what the results of the surgery had been.  I had been placed in an isolated warm room in the Burn, Trauma and High Acuity ward of VGH.  The room was set at 28 degrees and I was stuck under a Bair Hugger warming blanket set at 43 degrees for 3 full days, to help with vascularity after surgery.  Leaving me with a massive heat rash, I was eager to get out of this room.  My surgeon came in and had high hopes for me being able to leave in 3-5 days.  It took me three days to have the strength to text my friends and family.  I felt embarrassed, and full of regret of what had happened.  Scared to tell my family the devastating news that I had mutilated the perfect being they had created.  I managed to text a message of what happened, but relieved to tell my family that I would be okay and able to leave in a few days.  The following few days, with some amazing friends at my side, helped immensely, and I was moved a week later into a normal temp room.  My recovery had been slow going to this point.  Two hours after I was moved out of the warm room and taken off my blood thinner IV, I felt a sense of freedom which was short lived.  My replanted finger had started turning blue and purple and the nurses went into full panic mode.  I was immediately sent back to the warm room, back under the Bair Hugger, back on my IV.  It felt like any progress I had gained, was quashed.  Here I was starting all over again, watching my finger die in front of my eyes.  The doctors ordered leech therapy stat.  I was happy to see the leeches took to my finger right away and were helping to get rid of the congested blood that was pooling.  Nature at it’s finest!  I had been in the hospital for two weeks at this point, way beyond my assumed 3-5 day stay.  I was starting to feel sick, even though I wasn’t sick.  It’s amazing how hospitals can make you feel so helpless.  After 87 leeches, my finger was starting to look good again, and I was taken off IV, moved back into the normal temp room and my sense of a slight bit of freedom came back!  Things were moving along, and I was feeling hopeful.  Over the next few days, I continued leech therapy, but the tip started getting callused and hard, and the doctors were not happy with the progress.  I had lost so much blood from the leeching, I was hooked up to two blood transfusions, luckily I am O- and can accept almost all blood types.  I was able to leave the hospital 3 weeks after my first admittance and beyond happy just to be free.  2 blood transfusions, 131 leeches, 28 heparin pricks, 168 blood tests drawn, I was ready to sleep for the next week.  But I had things to catch up on.  I am not one to sit still, even if I should be.  I had a follow up appointment a week later, and they told me I had to endure another amputation.  My replant tip had died, and had to be removed from the joint up.  I breathed deep, sucked it up and went in for day surgery.  As of now, I am dealing with another open wound.  My replant is opened, soaking it in iodine daily and dressing it, hoping the rest lives.  It is looking like I might have to go back in for yet another revision to take the replant back to like it never existed in the beginning…those three weeks of hell were all in vain.  I am trying to look forward, and carry on, but I am struggling.  Emotionally, this has been the hardest thing I have ever been through. 

Moving forward, I have contact a doctor in France who specializes in replanting your own bone and thigh muscles and tendons to recreate functional fingers again.  I don’t know where I am going from here, but I need your help to get back on my feet again and move forward to hopefully functioning like I use to.  I want to fix what was taken from me and have the ability to work and create the beautiful things I made like I did before.   Thank you for letting me share my story.  Every word I type, and every moment I write about helps me to heal.   Help me get back to normal!