My season is over...

It's a long story, and I intend to share the whole damn thing with you guys.

So last year, after a security breach (someone I thought was cool wasn't- NEVER TELL ANYONE), I had to stop with my indoor shenanigans. At the time I had 3 females that were successfully reveging under cfls. I rushed them out of my house and into some Georgia red clay and composted manure around June. Come October, my spot and new partner were proving to be a little sketch, so I picked most of it early (broke the new chump off some and removed him from my life), and that was better than nothing. I went back around Halloween, just for shits and giggles, and found some of the finest ganja I have ever known on the twigs and popcorn buds I had left behind.

I couldn't ignore the results of my barely-cared for first attempt at organics. I read all of Lumperdawgz posts, some of his links, and a torrent of Teaming With Microbes. I made a bokashi bucket, worm bin, and AACT brewer with only a couple of trips to the hardware store. I had also moved and found a different job since then, so I felt confidant in growing indoors again.

The only thing I was lacking was a decent mineral amendment, so instead of paying shipping on a 25 lb. bag of rock powder, I decided to check out my local hydro shop. That was my third big mistake if you're counting.

Those guys looked at me like I was from the moon when I asked for glacial rock dust. After answering some questions about my operation, they offered me a job.

I couldn't have been more stoked. The pay sounded decent, and I'm sure I could easily pitch some retarted AN or Canna shit to 20-30 year old males all day long. I turned in notice at both of my current jobs, and then proceeded to totally bomb an interview with someone I hadn't met on my first trip down.

I was welcomed back at both of my real jobs, but I had already boned myself by entertaining the idea of growshop employment. I tore down my grow the night before the interview. Even worse, everyone at my real job was aware of where I was going. It never effected my job, but I was definitely uncomfortable with that much awareness.

No big deal really. The whole thing made me focus harder on my first solo guerilla flight. After some time with Google Earth, I found a large spot, comprised mostly of thorns, trees, kudzu, and snake infested waters, in walking distance of my apartment in the city. I prepped and transplanted into three holes with coco coir (those bricks are nice for backpackers), EWC, Espoma Plant-Tone, a little bokashi bran, some roasted and pulverized mussel and chicken shells, native soil and kelp.

I went out today to apply a foliar AACT, as the start of an organic fungicide program. All three holes were empty!!! As I made my way down the hill, already considering starting 10 bagseeds under 12/12 and thowing the females outside as soon as they declare sex, I slipped.

I slipped and grabbed quickly onto my machete. It was immediately obvious that I had severed at least one tendon. I tied my hand into a tight fist with my shirt, and proceeded to haul ass out of the woods in record time. My wife hauled my dumb-ass down to the hospital, and I got a shitload of stitches across three fingers in my right hand. Tomorrow, I get to go and meet my new friend, the hand specialist, and discuss options for returning mobility in my two worst fingers. If I was Canadian, this would be better. But I'm not. I'm an American with no health insurance.

So much for the down-payment on my first house.

And so I'm out this year. I'm not looking for any sympathy at all, I really just needed a place to vent. Thanks for reading this dumb ish. If you have a similar story, POST IT!

 

I made it home and all, so I've got that going for me, which is nice.

Who else here has been seriously injured while "on the job"?

 

Ya, I wanted a spot that nobody in there right mind would ever go to. My plot required a brutal hike through a lot of thorns (hence the unsheathed machete) and a creek that is full of snakes. I guess I picked something a little too difficult.

HAND UPDATE: according to the plastic surgeon, ten years ago I would have been out of luck, but today is a little better. For 6-8 grand (deep discount for a dude without insurance), he can make the entire hand close to normal, but the odds are high that I would re-snap the tendons. Factoring in the significantly longer recovery time if I went that route, I don't think I'll be having anymore work done. Also, it looks like I won't be yoyoing anymore (avid yoyo player and collector), and I may not be able to play my tin whistles anymore. That's not a monkey-spanking joke, I really did play the tin whistle.

 

Heh, never was very sane or healthy before this, and no time won't heal this. Time will make it's already poor chance of healing smaller and more expensive. I'm still pretty stoked to have not ended up on an episode of 99 ways to die!

I'm definitely going to do it a little differently next year.

 

With only my lefty, not really. I've already informed my wife, but she seems unconcerned.
She's looking at me right now and I'm trying not to laugh.

 

As a chef, losing dexterity could mean losing money, but my right thumb and index fingers are unscathed and my middle finger is good enough. If I played guitar, I could still strum with my current set-up, but the tin whistles are done. I really wanted to get a nice low D whistle once I improved, but that's right out of the list of doable things for now.

I still feel lucky. I just got off the phone with my plastic surgeon, and he has agreed to do everything he can for only $4,200, but it's a bit of a lost cause.

Also, if it seems like I'm on here all the damn time, it's because I am. I've got nothing to do except smoke, pop percocets, and chug beer until I'm cleared to go back to work.



What's this? There seems to be an elephant in the room that nobody can mention. I still don't know what happened to the ladies. Maybe they died on transplant (doubtful). Perhaps the wee plants didn't like the famous storm that thrashed our neighbor, Alabama. Maybe there was a hungry deer wandering by. Perhaps I just saw the work of the world's dumbest ripper.

 

The plants were good to go. I'm guessing deer or world's dumbest ripper.

As for pain management, I cut myself off of percocets yesterday, as I was already running low and wanting to save some. And I'm always baked of course.