This entry was posted on September 27th.
My job was simple: replace a couple USB hard drives on a server. The hard drives were sitting on top of the server. The server was high up in a cabinet. The cabinet had ventilation, in the form of a fan on the top of the cabinet plugged into a power strip in the cabinet.
So one moment I’m moving these drives around and another moment my hand has slapped against the top of the server, knocking over a drive, and my hand is bleeding. Super bleeding, that special kind of bleeding where you think the wound is kind of kidding, or a misdirection, and then it proves that no, no it isn’t.
So what I’d done is lifted the drive up too much and my forefinger on my right hand went right into the fan.
I was quite lucky; it basically bounced off my fingernail, breaking it, and blowing my hand out of its way before cutting into something useful, like a joint.
The speed and fury at which my life could have changed is what strikes me. One instant, and I would have had an endless point of discussion and conversation at parties, as well as a slower (or different) typing speed, slightly floppy gloves, probably half a year of on-again off-again depression.
People make plans that encompass years and carve out priorities, and its this kind of stuff that reminds me that nothing is promised, nothing is assured. It’s humbling.
Also, it hurts.
(A cracked, cleaned-up-of-blood fingernail looks like this, by the way. The little part at the bottom there has fallen off but things are healing a-ok.)
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