A terrible ordeal

Tired. Scared. Terrified is more like it.

Monday afternoon, I got a call from my sister while at work asking if I was okay. I said yes and asked her why she was asking and she told me someone had seen the ambulance at my house (hooray for living in a small town) and was concerned since I am so close to my due date. I told her I was okay and the guys in the ambulance probably just saw Justin in the yard and stopped to talk.

Shortly thereafter, my MIL called and asked me to take a ride. I asked her to give me a minute to let my boss know and she said for me to just grab my purse and come on outside to her waiting car. I made it halfway out to the parking lot when it just clicked in my brain that the ambulance had been at my house for JUSTIN. My husband. The love of my life. The father of my unborn son. I broke down. Mrs. Desiree wouldn't tell me what happened. We just had to get to the ER to see Justin.

When I walked in, I couldn't comprehend what could possibly be wrong. His hand was wrapped up in gauze. I thought he must have slammed his fingers in the grill because he had been outside cleaning it when I talked to him at lunch.

After what seemed like an eternity, I was able to piece together the story. Justin got a new pistol from my dad on Sunday (the day before this happened). He was trying to get used to how it felt in his hand and said the gun just went off even though he "knew" he unloaded it. The bullet hit at least the index finger on his left hand.

After he went into surgery, the doctor told us it would take two days to determine if blood flow was still getting to the badly injured finger and if they would be able to save it with a prosthetic joint. Today, the surgeon examined the finger and has decided to send us to an orthopedic hand specialist in Macon. We will know more about what can be done after his appointment tomorrow afternoon.

Please don't get discouraged. Guns have their place. I just hope everyone can see this terrible lesson as a reminder to be extra cautious when handling, storing, and shooting any weapon. It turns out he had mostly unloaded the revolver. He opened the cartridge, tipped the bullets out, and popped it back in the gun. When my parents went by the house to lock the gun up, they found one spent cartridge in the chamber. When my dad pressed the release, it pulled the spent cartridge back in. There must have been a sticky chamber that didn't fully release the bullets and Justin didn't count the unspent bullets when he unloaded the gun. Count your bullets, folks. Check and re-check. It is so worth it to take the few extra seconds.

Throughout this entire ordeal, we have been so blessed with the care and concern of friends and family via text message, phone calls, and Facebook updates. We are so thankful that this has just affected only one finger and nothing more serious. It is truely a divine wake up call. We have been so safety-consious when it comes to guns that it is truly unreal that something like this could happen to Justin.