Last weekend, I put five rounds through my new (to me) Walther P1 (which shot very accurately, BTW), then loaded up five rounds in my Russian Mak's mag. As soon as I slapped in the mag (pistol's slide was locked back), the slide slammed forward by itself and fired off all five rounds full auto. God knows where the other rounds went (downrange, fortunately, thanks to the four rules), but one round went through my left hand. Ouch.
I remained calm throughout the whole thing, surprisingly. I remember looking at the pistol, thinking
, then noticing that my left hand was shot. Fortunately, there was an EMT shooting at the time, and he noticed the accident right away. He had his emergency kit out in a flash, range workers were already on 911 even before I walked over to ask for it. The EMT guy (gotta go back and get his name) had my hand wrapped up and elevated in an instant and started asking me all my info just in case I couldn't answer later on.
Cops came, took a report and my Mak. Ambulance came about the same time. By that time, adrenaline had worn off, and the pain was kicking in high gear, so it seemed like the ambulance took forever. My buddy said they actually came pretty quick. Everyone (range workers, shooters, EMT's, etc.) was pretty helpful, and most were amazed that I didn't pass out from the pain or sight of the wound and accompanying blood.
Long story short, the bullet hit the base of my left thumb and exited out between the thumb and the index finger, taking a good chunk of protein with it. Needed surgery to patch things up. Fortunately (at least that's the word I kept hearing, although if I were really fortunate, the bullet would have missed me), the bullet missed tendons, ligaments, bones, etc. Mostly soft tissue damage, although one bone did break from the force of impact. I have surprising range of motion in the hand right now, even with all the damage, so the prognosis I keep hearing is that I'll regain 100% function in the hand eventually. Won't be pretty, though. Right now, it kinda looks like a baseball with all the stitching. I'm typing pretty good, however.
A few thoughts:
Mortality. I got shot, and the first thing that went through my mind at the time was that I didn't get enough time with my newborn son. Didn't know the extent of the wound yet, just saw lots of blood. Although it's a bit painful, I hold my son as much as possible now. First night I got home from the hospital, I was awakened by a 5-shot burst nightmare. No more nightmares now, but that one tells me I was pretty shaken by the incident.
Gunshy. I'm not the type to fall off a bike and not get back on, especially with all the progress I've made with my pistol shooting, so I'll be back at it again eventually. I went back to the range today to let the workers know I was doing well, and the gun shots didn't rattle me any. I actually missed it a bit. Guns in general, however, I've lost a bit of passion for. I'm the most Gun-Ho guy amongst all my friends, and I'm afraid they'll think this is the end result of all that. It isn't, just catastrophically bad luck, but they'll think it anyways. I thought it a few times myself these past few days.
Fire sale. I put my wife and mom through a pretty bad scare. "Mrs. BamBam, are you sitting down? There's been an accident with your husband at the gun range." My father passed away this March (after a long battle with cancer), so I know when my mom first hears, she's thinking she's gonna have to bury both the men in her life, back to back. She wants me to sell all my guns, period. My wife's more reasonable. She wants me to sell all the old milsurp-type guns because they're worn and thus more prone to accidents. At this point, I'm actually willing to oblige with my wife's request simply to ease her fears. I can't sell ALL my guns, however. Be on the lookout for my Classifieds (C96 Mauser, Persian Mauser, FN49, FR8, Bulgie Mak, etc.). Maybe I'll buy something from Tiffany's with the $$$. It's not that I believe I need to sell them, it's that selling them is the least I can do to make up for what I put them through.
I dunno. Maybe I need to put some distance between me and the incident first, let my hand heal up a bit for a while. Something's wrong when I pop in "Black Hawk Down," "Band of Brothers," and "Equilibrium" and I don't get excited. I watch each gunshot and think how much damage each bullet would do. PTSD, man.
I try to keep a sense of humor about it. When my friends ask me what happened, I tell them, "I thought I was The One. Guess not." I tell them I'm gonna apply for G-Unit (50 cent's rap posse where you have to be shot in order to be a member). I tell my wife if our son misbehaves, I'm gonna show him "The Hand." That's me. The doubts, the moments of mortal navel-gazing, maybe that's the pain meds talking. I wish they'd shut up. :banghead:
My wife wants to know if I can sue the guy I bought the pistol from. She thinks he may have known that it was unsafe to fire. I bought it on consignment from a local gunsmith's, and she thinks they, too, should have known that the gun was unsafe. Again, I just think it's bad luck. Or good luck, since I still have all ten digits and a whole head of hair.
Alright, enough. Sorry for the epic melodrama.
I remained calm throughout the whole thing, surprisingly. I remember looking at the pistol, thinking
, then noticing that my left hand was shot. Fortunately, there was an EMT shooting at the time, and he noticed the accident right away. He had his emergency kit out in a flash, range workers were already on 911 even before I walked over to ask for it. The EMT guy (gotta go back and get his name) had my hand wrapped up and elevated in an instant and started asking me all my info just in case I couldn't answer later on.Cops came, took a report and my Mak. Ambulance came about the same time. By that time, adrenaline had worn off, and the pain was kicking in high gear, so it seemed like the ambulance took forever. My buddy said they actually came pretty quick. Everyone (range workers, shooters, EMT's, etc.) was pretty helpful, and most were amazed that I didn't pass out from the pain or sight of the wound and accompanying blood.
Long story short, the bullet hit the base of my left thumb and exited out between the thumb and the index finger, taking a good chunk of protein with it. Needed surgery to patch things up. Fortunately (at least that's the word I kept hearing, although if I were really fortunate, the bullet would have missed me), the bullet missed tendons, ligaments, bones, etc. Mostly soft tissue damage, although one bone did break from the force of impact. I have surprising range of motion in the hand right now, even with all the damage, so the prognosis I keep hearing is that I'll regain 100% function in the hand eventually. Won't be pretty, though. Right now, it kinda looks like a baseball with all the stitching. I'm typing pretty good, however.
A few thoughts:
Mortality. I got shot, and the first thing that went through my mind at the time was that I didn't get enough time with my newborn son. Didn't know the extent of the wound yet, just saw lots of blood. Although it's a bit painful, I hold my son as much as possible now. First night I got home from the hospital, I was awakened by a 5-shot burst nightmare. No more nightmares now, but that one tells me I was pretty shaken by the incident.
Gunshy. I'm not the type to fall off a bike and not get back on, especially with all the progress I've made with my pistol shooting, so I'll be back at it again eventually. I went back to the range today to let the workers know I was doing well, and the gun shots didn't rattle me any. I actually missed it a bit. Guns in general, however, I've lost a bit of passion for. I'm the most Gun-Ho guy amongst all my friends, and I'm afraid they'll think this is the end result of all that. It isn't, just catastrophically bad luck, but they'll think it anyways. I thought it a few times myself these past few days.
Fire sale. I put my wife and mom through a pretty bad scare. "Mrs. BamBam, are you sitting down? There's been an accident with your husband at the gun range." My father passed away this March (after a long battle with cancer), so I know when my mom first hears, she's thinking she's gonna have to bury both the men in her life, back to back. She wants me to sell all my guns, period. My wife's more reasonable. She wants me to sell all the old milsurp-type guns because they're worn and thus more prone to accidents. At this point, I'm actually willing to oblige with my wife's request simply to ease her fears. I can't sell ALL my guns, however. Be on the lookout for my Classifieds (C96 Mauser, Persian Mauser, FN49, FR8, Bulgie Mak, etc.). Maybe I'll buy something from Tiffany's with the $$$. It's not that I believe I need to sell them, it's that selling them is the least I can do to make up for what I put them through.
I dunno. Maybe I need to put some distance between me and the incident first, let my hand heal up a bit for a while. Something's wrong when I pop in "Black Hawk Down," "Band of Brothers," and "Equilibrium" and I don't get excited. I watch each gunshot and think how much damage each bullet would do. PTSD, man.
I try to keep a sense of humor about it. When my friends ask me what happened, I tell them, "I thought I was The One. Guess not." I tell them I'm gonna apply for G-Unit (50 cent's rap posse where you have to be shot in order to be a member). I tell my wife if our son misbehaves, I'm gonna show him "The Hand." That's me. The doubts, the moments of mortal navel-gazing, maybe that's the pain meds talking. I wish they'd shut up. :banghead:
My wife wants to know if I can sue the guy I bought the pistol from. She thinks he may have known that it was unsafe to fire. I bought it on consignment from a local gunsmith's, and she thinks they, too, should have known that the gun was unsafe. Again, I just think it's bad luck. Or good luck, since I still have all ten digits and a whole head of hair.
Alright, enough. Sorry for the epic melodrama.
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Can you say Neville Chamberlain?
