The Aftermath

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Read a story the other day about a cop who was having a party. He was showing off his guns, and he tossed one on the bed where his four-year-old picked it up and shot his mother dead.

The story in and of itself is horrible, but I got to thinking about what happens after.

How does the Dad go on?

How does the kid grow up and come out okay?

It's gonna' take a lot of work.

There are a lot of people fighting the pain of having lived. It ain't easy. Some things never go away.

I work in a business where guys get hurt. A lot of times I have to hear about how they are continuing to live.

In the aftermath.

One kid, at the age of 20, was doing work with a shear press. In order to do his work quicker, as he wanted to make a little extra money, he would un-jam the machine without shutting it down. He got away with it for a little while.

Then it bit him.

It took off three fingers on his right hand - his strong hand - to the knuckle.

I got to shake hands with him after that.

We bumped shoulders.

The kid was a nice enough guy. He took me through the particulars of his accident. The company kept him on despite his new disability, but removed him from the area where the sharp things are.

"And I skipped the guard to do my work faster because they were paying us by the piece."

The kid showed me where he stuck his hand to lose his fingers. As he was doing so I was staring down at him, thinking, "What a dumb son-of-a-bitch."

"And that's how it happened," he said. "Now I live without three fingers."

I gazed at the spot. Just the pinky and thumb left.

"How much extra money did you make?" I asked.

"Sixty bucks," he said.

"Twenty a finger, huh?" I said.

"Well, I wouldn't do it again," he answered.

"What's the worst part?" I asked.

"Learning how to wipe my ass with the other hand wasn't fun," he said.

"I don't imagine," I said.

Bad stuff happens fast, doesn't it?

Sometimes we can't fix it.

We have to learn to live with what we can't rise above.

(Thanks for the line, Bruce).

But the aftermath can be horrific.

I think of that cop.

And his dead wife.

And the poor kid.

Sometimes the story is too horrible.

"Well, I wouldn't do it again."

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