#injured hand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kmlaney · 10 months ago

Note

as I recall, this injury was a key moment in the film El Mariachi

perhaps an odd/specific question, but if a character got shot through the hand at very close range without access to medical care (apocalypse) how serious would that injury be? would it be possible to bandage/treat it without medical knowledge?

So, there's a couple factors here that could have a meaningful impact. However, on the question of how serious, this depends on your definition. If you're asking, “is this life threatening?” The answer is yes, but probably not for the reason you're thinking of. If you're asking, “will this cause significant changes to what the character can do,” then, again, the answer is yes.

The chances of bleeding to death from a gunshot wound to the hand aren't especially high, if the wound is properly bandaged, and the victim can stop bleeding. That last part isn't guaranteed, but unless there's some contributing factor (like a history of alcoholism), if they can stop the bleeding, that won't be what kills them.

What might kill them is bacterial infection. Contrary to popular belief (and, even contrary to what I've said in the past), bullets do not burn hot enough to sterilize the bullet. Meaning the bullet can be a vector for bacterial infection (of course, the bandage, and any debris forced into the body by the gunshot, are more likely to become vectors.) In a post-apocalyptic setting, without access to medical treatment, a bacterial infection can absolutely kill you.

Of course, improper bandage hygiene can also result in an infection, days after the original gunshot wound occurred. In a post-apocalyptic environment, you really do not want to ignore open wounds.

On the non-lethal side of the question, they're never going to be able to use that hand again. At least, it's not going to be the same, ever again. How bad it is will depend on what they were hit with. But, in most circumstances, a gunshot to the hand will break bones in the hand. In many cases the bullet can even eject bone fragments from the hand.

Without medical treatment, broken bones in the palm of the hand can permanently impair its use, but when you're ejecting critical portions of the hand's structure, yeah, that's not going to work right without those bits. When you look at most of your skeletal structure, your bones basically create a kind of intricate pulley system. Depending on what's damaged, destroyed, or ejected, that might mean that some fingers are still functional, or it could create a situation where they're unable to use their fingers at all. In some cases (such as with a shotgun), you might even eject enough material that the hand itself is completely unsalvageable.

So, the short version is, it might not kill your character, but that hand is going to be very seriously messed up, and it will probably, permanently change their life, and might still kill them later.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #injury #injury description #injured hand #hand

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hookaroo · 1 year ago

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Laden of the Torn (16 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 @killian-whump <3

The Less Clan healer’s alcove was not nearly as cozy as that of the First. Killian did not see any beds, or even seating, for that matter. Patch’s limited supplies were gathered at the base of a dead tree. Killian found a flat spot by the wall and dropped heavily to the ground. Patch tossed a ball of fluffy plant fibers, dripping with disinfectant, in Killian's direction, then pointed at the stiff stain of blood on his upper leg. Wincing, he reached forward and scooped it into the bloodstained claw his hand had become. Minerals dissolved in solution began a chemical reaction within his open wounds, its bubbles like boiling water poured all over his palm. Growling, Killian dropped the fibers into position covering the tooth punctures in his thigh, and the vigorous fizz soon had that area similarly aflame.

Killian sat back, closing his eyes and grinding his teeth. It would be easier to bear if it had any meaning, but as it was, he had gained nothing but more injuries to add to his extensive collection… some serious, potentially even life-altering. He was no closer to rescuing Puzzle and thus could take no solace in possibly getting one step closer to Alice. Frustration offered no balm, only salt rubbed into throbbing wounds.

Killian bit back a yelp as Patch began scrubbing roughly at his mutilated palm, which was no more than he had expected from an enemy caretaker, but still felt like Hellfire seeping its way down to the bone. Those long hours spent under Mandible’s paws seemed like pure bliss compared to this.

“I am sorry,” murmured Patch with surprising sympathy. “You will thank me later.”

“Maybe,” Killian grunted, trying not to squirm. “I am a bit partial to this hand. Would prefer not to lose it.”

Patch dipped her cloth into fresh disinfectant and resumed her task. “I cannot promise anything.”

Some excruciating length of time later, the scrubbing gave way to that unique red-hot shock that could only belong to one thing: the helpless insect he was growing too familiar with. Through the squeezing heat of its venom, Killian heard the quiet crunch as its body disappeared between Patch’s jaws.

“You may have the next one,” offered Patch.

With gritted teeth, Killian shook his head. “No thank you.”

Eating insects always stirred up unpleasant memories of desperate times. And he was too woozy to be hungry at the moment anyway. Still, considering how much of a delicacy Patch’s species considered them to be, it was kind of her to offer. Killian risked a quick glance at the next struggling ant, just to confirm its identity.

“I was under the impression that your rivals were the only clan to use Warrior Ants in their healing arts.”

It wasn't a particularly important question, but it gave him something to take his mind off of the ruins of his hand he’d just glimpsed. Patch carefully applied the next set of jaws.

“Mandible told you that?”

“Yes…” He thought for a moment, then amended, “Actually, it may have been along the lines of his being the one to perfect the technique.”

“That is closer to what he told me as well.”

“You've spoken to him?”

Killian had thought that the animosity between the two clans would prevent any casual contact between their members. To his surprise, Patch said,

“I learned most of my healing skills from him.”

Figuring that any additional intelligence about clan dynamics could be used to his advantage, Killian asked,

“How did that come about?”

The Less healer glanced up at his face in brief hesitation before responding. “I was born to the First Clan and discovered my purpose there. Mandible is a good instructor, and it was only after he taught me all he knew that I became the chief healer of the Prime Clan.”

“And what made you decide to switch sides?”

Patch set aside her container of ants and opened a pouch containing bandaging material. “Our Chieftains arranged a trade. The Prime had just lost their only healer, and the First needed a skilled metal forger.”

Killian had been watching the monkey's face but lacked the ability to read complex emotions. Thus, he could not tell how Patch felt about the situation.

“Were you given any sort of say in this trade?”

Patch waited until her bandaging job was underway before answering slowly. “Favor willed it so.”

Killian managed to turn a derisive scoff into an only slightly exaggerated grunt of pain. “Just because someone is in authority over you, it doesn't mean they have your best interests in mind. Quite often, the opposite is true.”

Patch said nothing and Killian did not press the issue. A moment of silence elapsed, then he sighed.

“I suppose you’re completely loyal to your new clan now. Considering the infallible wisdom of the two chieftains. You couldn't possibly have retained any sense of belonging to the family who raised you. Not a dutiful servant such as yourself.”

Patch would not meet his gaze. Killian allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope and tried a gentler tone. “You couldn't be blamed for not feeling the same animosity. Especially if you still have friends on the other side. Look, surely you don't condone this whole kidnapping business, after having been through something like it yourself.”

With nimble paws, Patch secured the bandage and sat back on her haunches. She glanced over her shoulder, then said,

“My opinion does not matter.”

Killian lowered his voice, even though there was no other being in sight.

“You're the only one who might be able to help! You know I don't stand a chance against Quake; not like this.” He indicated his freshly bandaged hand and winced. Patch remained motionless, and Killian dared to believe he saw indecision in her eyes.

“Think back to when you were first brought here,” he urged. “You must have felt so frightened and alone; I know I would have. It couldn't have been easy, knowing you may never see your friends or family again. Do you really want to leave Princess Puzzle to that same fate? Or arguably worse, considering her intended role?”

Patch's coppery fur puffed out in a sudden shiver, and she busied herself once again among the tools of her trade.

“Of course not,” she hissed, eyes averted. “But what can I do? Lack would never listen to me. If I spoke up, it would only anger him, and that would make life very difficult for me.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” Killian assured her, trying and failing to find a comfortable position in which to rest his hand. “Perhaps just some information; something I could have found out on my own if I’d had enough time. Doesn’t have to be anything that could be traced back to you. I would be grateful for anything at this point.” He raised an eyebrow and flashed what he hoped was an encouraging smile at her. “So… what do you say?”

Patch had turned her attention to the bites on his leg, tending them through a rip in his trousers, and she did not answer immediately. When she did begin speaking, she kept her volume to a level just barely audible.

“The princess is under guard at the edge of the marshland to the south of here. Chief Lack is fiercely possessive and does not trust the rest of the clan to be in easy contact with her, so she will be kept out of the way until she is mature enough that he can claim her. If you could manage to defeat her guards, it’s likely you would not meet much resistance all the way to the edge of Prime territory. Hardly anyone ventures into the marshes. Predatory and venomous reptiles call that place home.”

Killian did not relish the thought of another confrontation, but with all the references to “escorts” and “guards,” he knew it was all but inevitable. “Do you know how many are guarding her?”

“My best guess, only two at a time. They will be formidable warriors, but female. No cause for a jealous chieftain to worry.”

Killian nodded slowly, calculating. He would learn the way there whenever he was granted his request to visit Puzzle. They would be more alert to trouble at that time, but perhaps he could steal away later in the evening… that, of course, would mean navigating unfamiliar and hostile territory in the dark, without a map… what were the chances the princess would know the way home?

“There is a secret trail through the marshlands,” Patch said hesitantly. “As a young First scout, I would accompany a group of warriors to spy on the Prime, using the marshes as our route in and out. You only need to travel in a straight line between the stripe-barked trees, and there will be solid ground beneath the mud.”

She began winding a bandage around his thigh, adding,

“I do not believe the Prime are aware of this path. The final tree, the one up on solid ground… it points the way to a Stone Forest entrance within First territory. Head northwest a short distance and you will come to the border where you first encountered the Prime sentries earlier today. From there, you can simply retrace your steps to return Princess Puzzle to her family.”

“Easy enough,” replied Killian, already so exhausted from merely thinking about the journey. Travel through the treacherous bog would require at least some daylight, so a night-time rescue was out of the question. “Are there no sentries at the other end of the marsh?”

“There is always a risk, wherever you are along the border.” She tied a secure knot on the bandage, then reached up to pull his shirt away from the scratches adorning his ribs. He did his best to assist, using his stump to hold his shirt out of the way while she applied the abrasive antiseptic to the scratches.

Now that he knew where the princess was being held, perhaps he would not need to stage the rescue while in his current state. He could bring his findings to the First, wait to regain the use of his hand, then return using the back way through the marsh for a more capable rescue. Even if the First clung to their stubborn beliefs about interference and refused to accompany him, at least he would stand more of a chance against the pair of Less guards. It would mean a longer imprisonment for Puzzle, which would be unfortunate, but probably worth it if it meant a greater chance of success. However… all of this depended on the Less keeping their word and letting him go the next morning. And he had already learned not to take their promises at face value.

“Tell me, Patch... what do you think the chances are that I'm truly set free in the morning?”

She ducked her head slightly, ears flattening in an almost cringing motion. “They will keep their word. You will be escorted from here and released into First territory. Then…”

She trailed off, and it didn’t really need to be said. Killian closed his eyes and allowed his head to rest back against the wall. “Fair game?”

“I am sorry,” she confirmed. “The Torn are not worthy of the gods’ attention. Chief Lack’s misleading of you will not provoke their wrath.”

Killian sighed. “I was a bloody fool, thinking I could come in here and do some good for once. So, in summary: in the morning, I could choose to release the princess only for me to remain behind to be eaten, ensuring that she would be recaptured swiftly. I could leave her behind, take my chances with the entire Prime Clan, and if by some miracle, I managed to escape, sneak back through the lizard-infested swamp to attempt to break her out when I'm stronger. Or, I could make my move today when I'm escorted to visit her, while everyone is on high alert for just such a thing and I have no usable hands and a similar measure of reserve strength. Would you say that's an accurate assessment of my three equally terrible options?”

Patch put the finishing touches on her dressing, stopped to scratch her back with a hind paw, then paused, deep in thought. Killian watched her with one eye slitted open.

“Wait here,” she finally said, then dashed off. Alone with scattered thoughts and pains old and new, Killian heaved a quiet groan as he attempted to rest. His hand throbbed unbearably, feeling three sizes too big, and the pressure from the bandage offered little relief. He tried wiggling each finger in turn, and the only partial victory came with a feeble twitch of his pinky. He winced and gave up.

“Oh Alice,” he sighed. “Your papa is not nearly as clever, brave, or strong as either of us believed. You deserve so much better.”

Some white knight he was. Bloody white elephant, more like. How many times had he counseled her to never give up, to believe in herself and her dreams of freedom? Too many to number, surely. If she could see him now, this bloodied, defeated mockery of the example he’d always endeavored to be for her, she would be met with the reality he had so naively sought to deny: he was not father material, and never had been. His upbringing and a long life of depravity had corrupted his soul, and the love he felt for her was not enough to compensate. It would have always come to this, sooner or later. Captain Hook deserved only suffering, and he’d been a fool to hope for a happy ending.

But… even if he didn’t deserve happiness, certainly Alice did? As much as it felt like the universe was conspiring to make him fail, he had to believe that Alice’s innocence would add weight to the opposite end of the scale. He tried to envision her adoring smile in an effort to wipe away the imagined disappointment that had festered a little bit more deeply inside with each additional failure. He needed to take his own encouragement to heart.

Mindset is everything, he recited at the vision of his daughter.

Everything starts with belief, the memory of her voice chimed in. And he swallowed his pain, drowned the discouragement, and met the eyes of a returning Patch with weary resolve.

“I have informed Chief Lack that you require one hour’s rest before you visit the princess,” Patch told him. “I can mix a draught that will boost your energy for a short period, but it will work better if you have a chance to relax first.”

She stopped nearby, clutching a small pouch and looking Killian over once again. Silent, he nodded his assent. Patch scoured their surroundings for any sign of eavesdroppers, then she lowered her voice.

“Now. This is the course of action I would advise you to take…”

#ouat fanfiction #laden of the torn #wish hook #wound care #injured hand #disinfectant #ant-mediated wound closure #bandages #pain #blood #animal bites #hopelessness #exhaustion #plotting with patch

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