I lost a finger thanks to my manicure
When Jose Jackson, 57, from Carmarthen, had her nails done, she didn’t realise what it would actually cost her...
Walking through the town centre, I rested my heavy shopping bags on the ground with a sigh.
It was December 2017, and I’d spent the day dashing around town picking up bits and pieces.
‘I think I’ll call it a day,’ I said to myself, exhausted.
Just then, I spotted a nail salon in the distance.
I hardly ever got my nails done – only ever for weddings or other special occasions.
Now, though, I decided to head in.
I think I deserve a treat, I thought to myself cheekily.
‘Come in,’ the technician smiled sweetly as I entered the salon.
After picking out a set of pink acrylic nails, I took a seat at one of the stations.
As she got to work buffing the nails on my left hand, we had a good old natter.
I told her all about my son Jason, 39, my daughter Kelly, 37, and my granddaughters, Lauren, 14, and Amber, 10.
Before I knew it, my first hand was done.
‘They’re lovely,’ I beamed proudly, admiring the technician’s handiwork.
But then, as she got to work on my right hand, the shop door suddenly opened and she was distracted by a customer.
Her hand slipped while using a cuticle pusher and the sharp tool suddenly jabbed my index finger.
‘Ouch!’ I screeched, jumping out of my chair.
My finger started bleeding, but it only drew a bit of blood.
‘I’m so sorry!’ the technician cried, wrapping a tissue around my finger.
After the shock had worn off, I settled back and let her finish the set.
I didn’t want to make a fuss.
After she’d finished, I paid and headed home.
My finger felt a bit sore, but I didn’t think anything of it.
But over the next week, my finger started to swell.
‘That looks painful,’ Kelly winced when she came over.
‘I’ve been covering it in Savlon,’ I replied.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t making much difference.
Over the next few days, my finger started turning a purple colour, so I booked myself an appointment with the GP, just to be safe.
‘Looks like an infection,’ the GP suggested.
He wrapped my finger up in gauze and I was sent away with antibiotics, told they’d start to kick in after five days.
But by now, my finger was in agony, and when it started weeping pus, I knew something wasn’t right. Nearly two weeks after getting my nails done, in January 2018, I went back to the doctor.
I wailed out in pain as he peeled off the gauze.
As soon as he saw my finger, his face dropped.
‘Ms Jackson, you need to go to hospital,’ he said with urgency.
‘Right now.’ now Startled, I jumped in a taxi and headed straight to Glangwili Hospital with a note from the GP.
I was seen within minutes of arriving, and the doctor’s mouth practically dropped to the floor when he saw the state of my finger. ‘I don’t know how you’ve gone two weeks with this,’ he said, astonished. It was painful, but I didn’t realise how bad it was until the X-ray came back. I couldn’t work out what I was looking at... ‘That’s your finger,’ the surgeon explained, pointing to the image.
The top of my index finger was so misshapen – it looked like the top of a jagged mountain range.
‘I can’t believe it,’ I gasped in shock. The doctor explained I had developed a serious staph infection. It was caused by the bacteria staphylococcus entering the skin through a cut.
It can usually be treated with antibiotics, but I must have been given the wrong ones, because the infection kept spreading.
It had literally eaten
The bone had been eaten away
away at the bone.
At least five other surgeons were called in to have a look at my finger, and after they’d all had a discussion, my surgeon sat me down.
‘I’m so sorry, but we’re going to have to amputate the tip of your finger,’ he explained.
I gasped in shock, not able to believe what I was hearing.
I thought I’d just be put on different antibiotics, maybe have new dressings put on – but not this!
My surgeon went on to explain that if he didn’t act fast, the infection would spread even further.
‘You could lose your hand,’ he said gently. ‘Or even your whole arm.’
It was a total shock, but I knew I had no choice.
The next day, I was rushed for surgery, where doctors removed the tip of my finger.
After the two-hour op, the surgeon came to examine my finger, but he had some bad news.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said sincerely. ‘But the infection spread further than we thought. We need to remove more of your finger.’
By then, I just wanted rid of this infection.
‘Remove as much as you need,’ I replied bravely.
The following day, I had my second surgery, and was left with half a finger.
The surgeons were incredible and I couldn’t fault their amazing work.
After five days in hospital, I was finally allowed to go home, but was back and forth for six weeks to have physiotherapy on my right hand.
Missing my index finger, I was suddenly unable to do simple things, like holding a pen or doing up my buttons.
After getting over the shock, I suspected the cause of the infection may have stemmed from my visit to the nail salon.
Six weeks after surgery, I contacted a health inspector to pay a visit to the shop.
‘I can’t let this horrible thing happen to anyone else,’ I said to Kelly in distress.
After investigating, a letter arrived from them that confirmed my worst fears. They concluded the tools had not been disinfected between uses.
What if that cuticle pusher wasn’t clean after all? all I thought in disgust. There was enough evidence for me to seek advice from a solicitor, who thought I had a good chance of winning winning. After going back and forth for nearly two years, I finally won a five-figure payout in an out of court settlement.
Despite my victory, though, nothing would ever bring my finger back.
It completely changed my life life, and I had to learn to live with one less finger.
I couldn’t grip a pen, hold a toothbrush or do up buttons on my own.
I even needed help open opening packets of crisps and jars of food.
I was constantly dropping things.
Kelly was around often to help me out, and through physio, I’ve been able to adapt over time.
But missing my finger has also made me feel so selfconscious.
Whenever I go shopping, I add up what I’m buying and get my money ready before I go to the till, so that I’m not fumbling around my purse with a missing finger while other customers stare at me.
It destroyed my confidence and I haven’t been able to set foot in a nail salon since.
The most I can handle are sticky nails which I do on my own at home.
Even though it’s tough, I’ve learnt to laugh.
I can’t ‘high five’ my grandchildren anymore.
‘High four,’ I giggle, holding out my hand.
What used to be the occasional treat now fills me with dread.
No one deserves to go through what I did, and I hope sharing my story can raise awareness, especially around the importance of cleanliness in nail salons and the need for a hygiene rating.
I still can’t believe that a spontaneous decision to get my nails done ended up costing me my finger.
Despite everything, though, I try to stay positive and have learnt to adjust.
I won’t let one less digit get me down.