So You've Drilled Through Your Own Hand

By J.G. Pasterjak
Dec 10, 2022

Congratulations! You’ve joined the elite club of people who have, through their own carelessness or inattention, drilled through their own hand while working on their car.

You know this because when you stopped drilling, the hand that was holding the drill dropped neatly to your side where you store it for future use, while the other hand–the hand you were using to support the back of the panel you were drilling through–mysteriously stayed in place. So did the drill itself, stuck as it was through the metal and your hand meat.

Drilling through your own hand can be a confusing and chaotic time. We’ve prepared this handy (Ha! Get it?) guide to assist you in the aftermath.

1. Confirm that you really drilled through your own hand. Upon drilling through your own hand, there will be several signs. The first will be disbelief and denial. “Surely that was someone else’s hand back there,” you will think, and possibly even say aloud, but it will soon become readily apparent that no one else is present. The humiliation is next, but it will only mask the physical pain for a few seconds, so savor it in its purest form while you can.

2. Find a scapegoat. Next to my shop is a donkey. I mean, he lives there, he doesn’t just stand there at random. It’s technically the neighbor’s donkey, but his… pen? Paddock? Donketorium? Whatever you call the area where a donkey lives is right across from the front of my shop.

So when his particular human isn’t around, he’s usually at the fence begging for donkey treats and keeping a watchful eye on my progress. As he is the perfect foil, whenever a mistake is made in my shop, the resulting crash, bang, pop, fizzle or scrape is usually followed by a loud “Dammit, donkey!” clearly indicating where fault actually lies. The overspray got on the windshield not because I am a sloppy masker, but because the donkey was silently judging me.

Upon hearing my cries, the donkey usually responds with a noise that sounds half like mocking laughter and half like derisive deflection. He’s wise to my schemes by now, but quickly shifting the blame from me to him lessens the psychic burden. Side note: For you city folk who have never heard a real donkey before, they sound exactly like your drunk friend doing an impression of a donkey. Sometimes it sounds like "ha Ha dumass"

3. Now you must act. First, forget about finishing this project tonight. Any reason is good enough to stop work, drink a beer and watch a game on tv instead. , In fact, any upcoming plans not directly related to wound care or gauze replacement are pretty much out the window. No, it’s time to summon help. For most of us, this will mean calling an ambulance. Hopefully your phone is actually on your person with no dead battery and not just slightly out of reach of your free hand on the charger inside the house. Drilling through your own hand somewhat limits your mobility, what with the drill bit tunneling through so much tissue and hopefully no bone and pinning it to the back of the panel you were supporting. 2X4's are cheap . 911 won't be.

Anyway, it’s about now that you begin wishing there were two emergency numbers you could call: one for regular emergencies and one for really embarrassing ones. I’d be more than willing to spend a couple extra bucks toward my deductible if I knew I could expect a certain level of discretion from my rescue professionals. Or maybe I will wrap a blood soaked rag around the phone to disguise my voice.

Let’s face it, 911 dispatchers aren’t always stupid, and they’ve seen and heard it all, especially if you are a frequent caller. When they say, “911, what is your emergency?” and use your first name, you are really in trouble now. and you say, “I can’t really say,” they can tell just from the timbre of your voice that your genitals are hopelessly trapped in a pool vacuum fitting while the rest of you is casually nursing a poolside drink like nothing has happened. I’d be willing to bet that after 10 years on the job, a good 911 operator can determine the exact object irretrievably inserted in a caller’s butt based on the first 5 seconds of awkward stalling.

But summon help if you must, and when the paramedics show up, there’s pretty much one course of action they’re going to take. They’re going to cut that precious panel–the one you so lovingly supported with your own flesh–around the drill so they can free your hand and deliver the whole mess to the hospital for proper separation and billing.

Next time either have faster reflexes or learn where the reverse switch is on the drill to save the 911 call.

You wanted to drill one simple hole, but because you didn’t take proper safety precautions, you ended up with a whole mess of sloppily chopped sheet metal to replace. Which reminds me to plug next month’s column: “So You’ve Welded Through Your Own Fingertip.”