Building vs Michael or How to Injure the Artist.

Today was supposed to be just another day at the office for Michael and sidekick Gary. Weld two steel beams together, hump the finished product into Shop 4, manoeuvre it into place between the entry and the end of the space where the floor is going to be replaced and grind some old foundations away for it to fit snugly. Then weld the beam onto the steel post, congratulate themselves and return outside to move some more steel beams to be prepared to join the central member. All the time whilst dressed in the traditional safety gear of shorts, shirts and sneakers.

All was going exceptionally well until the very end. The boys returned to the back block to heave some steel around, sort the lengths out and cut the beams to size. In a classic case of missing the obvious signs of disaster, the steel went one way, a wooden post with a nail sticking out between the layers of steel went another way and Michael stumbled a third way. Somehow, the middle finger of Michael's left hand was trapped between the cascading beams and his right hand was caught on the nail, now helpfully pointing skywards.

I was safely in the Gallery, pounding away on our website's templates. I knew nothing of the unfolding drama. Then my phone rang. It was Michael. Odd, I thought. Why doesn't he just come into the Gallery? He confessed he was up at our local hospital, waiting to be seen by one of the local quacks.

I shot out of the Gallery up to the hospital. Michael was in the waiting room with a cup of coffee and a biscuit. He had to wait for the doctor to arrive after he finished at the practice across the road. After checking he wasn't bleeding copiously, I left him to cool his heels.

I pottered around at home catching up on a zillion housewifely chores. I started to worry after six. After finishing some washing and putting on the sprinklers, I decided to drive back, even if he wasn't ready. And then my phone rang.

He was waiting outside the front entry in the evening glow. The mashed finger had been bandaged. The webbing between his right thumb and index finger has been stitched. Six of them. Armed with panadeine forte and with instructions to return on Sunday for rebandaging and a tetanus injection (the hospital had run out of the stuff), we left for home.

Two beers, dinner, some vino and a couple of tablets have helped Michael's pain levels, but the mashed finger is giving him curry. I am about to throw him into the shower and then send him to bed.

And he thinks he'll be able to work tomorrow. Bahahahahaha!

In the beginning, there was the beam...

positioned on the post, which was encased in cement (signed of course)..

nerve centre now has Michael's MIG welder (alias Davros) in residence...

welder in space helmet...

yes, the sparks smart...

unsuccessful but spectacular welding mishap...

at home after emergency treatment...

middle finger now the size of a sausage and other hand blowing up remarkably as well!