Let me assure you, I’m not a lot of talk and a badge. When I say I’m going to do something…I do it – which is why I often keep my big mouth shut! Can’t be forced to do what you didn’t promise, no?!!? A few weeks ago I promised to chronicle my weekly CSA share with you. And I promised to provide a recipe along with said sharing. Well, that was before this little incident happened. Let me assure you, my knives are very sharp…very, very sharp. Let me also assure you that I should not handle sharp objects early in the morning before my coffee kicks in. When this little baby meets up with a sleepy little index finger, there will be blood…and pain…a few tears…and a whole lot of foul, loud language. I’m not proud of that language…my teenager, Big Guy, was impressed with my diatribe but he’s a teenager, any day he can say “damn” out loud, is a good day.
You know how you become an expert by default of any illness or medical bump in the road when you or a family member encounters that bump? For example, when Baby B was diagnosed with food allergies, it was my job to become an expert on how to feed her and keep her safe. When the cavernous angioma in my brain decided to make its presence known, it was my job to learn how to manage it without freaking out. When my Mom was diagnosed with cancer…well, you get the idea. If you ever have questions about how we handled these cards that were dealt to us, just ask – I’m always willing to share what worked and didn’t work for us. In the spirit of sharing, let me tell you what I learned about nasty, deep, bloody, painful cuts. GO GET IT CHECKED OUT IMMEDIATELY!! I didn’t do that – once I stemmed the blood flow, I slathered it with polysporin and slapped a big old bandage on it. Did it hurt? Oh yes, very much so but I’m a Mom, I’ve given birth – it’s all relative…and I had shit to do. That night Hubs was helping me change the dressing – he took one look at my handiwork and immediately said, “Wow, you should get that checked by a real doctor”…he NEVER says crap like that…NEVER. Alas, it was too late in the evening for a run to urgent care so I toughed it out until morning. I got in to see the doctor bright and early…she was not happy with me. Apparently, there is a 12 hour rule. A 12 HOUR RULE…did you get that? If you have a major cut, you have 12 hours to get it stitched up, after that the doctor has to re-cut the wound, clean it and then stitch it up. Yep, you read that right RE-CUT THE WOUND…as if. It hurt bad enough the first time it happened, I sure as hell wasn’t going to pay someone to do it again! That’s just crazy talk. So, we made sure it was clean, she gave me the proper dressings and ointments to keep it infection free, attached some steri-strips and sent me on my way with some very nice pain medication. She explained that recovery would take a little longer and I’ll probably have a lovely scar, if I’m lucky. If I’m not lucky I’ll have a nice little indention on the side of my finger when the flap of skin that should’ve had at least five stitches dries up and falls off. Nice, right?!!? She also explained how sensitive my finger would be for a very long time. She wasn’t joking. Now that I’ve been able to whittle my bandage down to something my keyboard can manage, every key strike with my left index finger sends pins and needles up my hand – good times.
I realize my silly little index finger cut is not a major deal. I also realize some of my family will read this and call me a drama queen…that’s ok, my role in my extended family is that of the drama queen – it doesn’t matter how undramatic my reaction is to something or how sensibly I handle a crisis, I’ll always be labeled the drama queen…may as well embrace the title when it gives me good fodder for my blog. Lemons, meet lemonade! Actually, I don’t suggest you squeeze anything citrusy when you have a cut of any sort on your finger – it stings like a mother…oops, almost let me bad language seep back in – Big Guy would be so proud!