the history of scott's nub: #1

scottie had been staying with my dad in florida during the spring of 2007. dad decided to leave the cold new jersey winters once & for all & move into the condo that was owned by my grandparents in st. petersburg. since scottie had been living with him in mt. laurel & didn't have anywhere else to go, he made the trip south with dad. soon enough, scottie discovered that hated living down there. he felt very isolated & didn't have any friends. he eventually found a pretty decent job working on the numerous bridges around the gulf. but he was never one to easily meld into the working man lifestyle. he could never wake up early on his own - even during his school years - & he was a little absent minded when it came to working safely in dangerous conditions. i'm not sure exactly if he was let go or quit, but in the end it was probably a little of both. by may scottie had made plans to take the greyhound back up north, move in with some friends, & got a lead on a job with a tree company. he was only his third day on the job when he had the accident.

when i think back to that day in may 2007, it seems like it was an ominous foreshadowing to scottie's passing. i was having a wonderful morning with some girlfriends, drinking coffee & playing with their children, when my husband & mom called me almost simultaneously. at first i ignored both of their phone calls, figuring i would back to them when i didn't mind the interruptions. but they called repeatedly. i eventually talked to mike who told me that scottie's friend called & said that he had gotten into an accident at his job. he was at cooper hospital in camden & i should probably get over there as soon as possible. on the way home, i talked to my mom, who was already driving up from florida with her boyfriend, al & his dying father. she was in a panic; i told her not to worry that i would take care of scottie.

i got home, the whole while thinking scott had just a minor cut his hand with a chainsaw or something. mike & i drove started driving to the hospital when he said, "sarah i have to tell you something about scottie." my brother's friend had told mike that scott cut off some fingers with a log splitter. my husband didn't want me to be blindsided at the hospital. i pulled the car over because i couldn't breathe. i felt sick. i was so scared for my poor little brother, who didn't have anyone around but me.

when we got to the hospital, the doctor took mike & me into a waiting room & told us the severity & insanity of the situation. scott had lost the 3 middle fingers on his right hand, & a small sliver of his thumb. they were going to try to save 2 of the digits by sewing them back on; the third was too mangled so it would be used for "parts" (veins, nerves, etc). the doctor said that they were going to take out the middle bone in the hand so it wouldn't look too big with only 4 fingers. the surgery would take all night & into early morning. by then, it was only early afternoon.

i couldn't think straight. i felt angry that i was put in that position. we were brother & sister: we were supposed to be playing, fighting, laughing, singing, getting on each other's nerves.  i wasn't supposed to be my brother's emergency contact.

the doctor told me to go see scott. he'd be pretty doped up so he wouldn't be able to feel anything & because he'd be going into surgery pretty quickly. i went in & saw my baby brother's precious face & he smiled. i burst into tears. i wanted to remain strong for him but i couldn't. i was too scared. i tried to find his hand, but it was already wrapped up in bandages. on his leg was a plastic ziplock bag & inside was the part of his thumb that had been cut off. i looked away hurriedly, hoping not bring scott's attention to it. my brother told me not to worry, that everything would be alright. scottie was always saying shit like that. i managed to look in his eyes, & even through all the medication, i could see how he didn't really believe what he was telling me.

they let me stay with scottie until he was ready for the inconceivably intricate, medically miraculous procedure to save his fingers. i hugged him so hard & said i'd see him when he got out. i was preparing myself for a long night in the waiting room, when the surgeon told me that i wouldn't be allowed to see my brother right after surgery because he'd be too out of it & needed recovery. he said that i should leave, get as much sleep as possible, & come back when visiting hours in the intensive care unit started the following morning.

& so i left. but i couldn't sleep. i was so grateful when amir, scott's plastic surgeon, called at around 3 or 4 in the morning to assure me that everything went fine; that time would only tell to see if scott's hand would reject the same fingers that stood atop his broad palm for the past 2 decades, without a second thought. for now, we could only wait & hope.