Childhood Fear, Revisited

I was always a little fearful of breaking an arm or leg and getting a cast because of the saw that would be used to take off said cast. But no one ever gets hurt having a cast taken off, right?

Right?

When my dad had his elbow surgery last Friday, the docs knocked him out before removing the cast that went from forearm to first set of knuckles. And then they used the wrong sized saw to take the cast off. After the procedure, his surgeon came out and told my mom this "wrong saw" story, and told her he had a little abrasion on his hand, but that it hadn't broken the skin. General feeling was that ok, accidents happen, and you picked out the wrong saw for a cast your office put on, oh well, guess you're not as smart as you look, but whatever.

Yesterday, Pops had his arm unwrapped for the first time when he had his removable cast made. Turns out his surgeon, Dr. Suck, is a big, fat, enourmous liar. He's cut from pummel of hand to nearly the crook of elbow. The cut wasn't terribly deep, but it is about a foot long and was crusty with blood, which I hear made the de-gauzing a laugh riot. Since it was done with a saw, it is about the width of a fettucini noodle. Direct quote from my mother: "It looks like you slit your wrist and knew how to do it." Sheesh.

And just guess how much it cost to have the cast removed by a doctor in the OR.

Dad says that when it is time for the other arm's decasting, he's just going to go after it with a chisel and sledgehammer.

So, yah, that's not cool. I do realize it isn't the worst thing that could have happened, but I like my doctors competent, so it upsets me.