Years ago our "C" building was a warehouse with an adjoining apartment.
One Saturday morning Renee, our apartment tenant, phoned me at home. "You need to get over here right away!"
Minutes prior, Renee noticed a storage tenant walking in circles outside her kitchen window, blood streaking his shirt while elevating his hand in the air. She led him into her apartment and phoned me.
Seems 'Bob' was loading his heavy Harley Davidson motorcycle into the bed of his truck. It became unbalanced and fell on top of him cutting off the top of his pointer finger just below the first joint. Renee wrapped his hand tightly in a kitchen towel while I told Bob I would phone 911.
"NO! Don't do that! he exclaimed. "My insurance will not cover the ride. I'll drive myself to the emergency room."
"You'll do no such thing! I said. "I will drive you there and my husband will follow driving your pickup."
He agreed to the plan and ask that we secure his motorcycle in his unit.
I then asked Renee to fill a baggie with ice. Bob guessed my intention and protested, "You don't need to do that" he said.
"Yes, I do. It's possible that your finger can be reattached. Besides, I don't want Renee's cat to feast on your finger!"
After placing the fingertop on ice we drove Bob to the ER. We left once Bob and his fingertop were escorted into an exam room. He promised me he would phone later in the day giving us an update on his condition.
The doctor could not reattach Bob's finger. He was released from the ER with a bottleful of pain meds and is now living life minus a finger top!