It’s been a week since I’ve posted a blog, but what an event-filled week it’s been! So, here’s my excuse. I spent part of the week in the hospital, admitted through the Emergency Room. I’ll explain, embarrassing though it may be.
Those of you who read my blog know that recently, in a moment of pure madness, I splurged on a new camera system, the incredible Hasselblad H4D-50 with a series of lenses. My clients are demanding larger and larger prints and at times my Nikon 12 mega-pixel D700 just doesn’t cut it. I love my Nikon equipment, especially for wildlife action, but my landscape work seems to be trending toward the larger 50 mega-pixel Hasselblad size.
Over the past two weeks since I got the camera system I have been trying to learn its intricacies prior to my traveling to Zion National Park in November, where I intend to get it to earn back some of its absurd cost. Therein lies the rub… or catch, as you’ll see.
As I was fiddling with the Hassy grip, which doubles as the battery, at one point I got my thumb wedged in the space between the grip and the body. For a moment I couldn’t release it. It hurt for a few seconds, but I thought nothing of it.
The next day, my assistant, Bob, and I drove to the Hasselblad repair facility in northern New Jersey to get a quirky lens checked out. All of a sudden, my thumb swelled up and turned a very ugly shade of black-and-blue. Since I once had a blood clot in my leg following surgery, I called my vascular surgeon, who suggested I get my butt to a hospital right away.
Of course given my history of a prior clot, the admitting Resident figured it had to be a clot. In any event, he wasn’t buying my story about the camera wedgie. So, I was admitted to the absolutely wonderful Robert Wood Johnson University Hospital where, for the next 24 hours I was pricked, prodded, stuck, taped, tested, retested and asked the same questions over and over by a truly terrific, friendly staff.
Finally, late in the afternoon the head vascular surgeon came into my room, took one look at my thumb and told me to get the hell out of there! Whew! What a relief.
So, who ever said that photography wasn’t a contact sport?