This morning, it was all business as usual. The dogs were starving and on the verge of death, and I was taking approximately 700 years (that's 4900 years in dog time) to prep their breakfasts.
Since Lil' Frank is skeletal and bald, I put a little fish oil on his food every morning. This means that every few days, I stab a fish oil capsule so I can pinch a few drops out onto his food. He only weighs 5 pounds, so he can't have a lot of the oil. And so I pinch out a few drops every day until the capsule is empty, and then we wash and repeat.
This morning, I stabbed a new capsule. Except instead of fish oil, blood came gushing out. Because I didn't stab the capsule - I stabbed the side of my finger.
At first, I was all, "Wow! That's really a cascade of bodily fluid!" And then when it didn't magically stop bleeding when I did my 1 and only first aid move of holding it under running water? Well, then shit started to get real.
I wrapped my finger in a paper towel. The dogs were still crying for their food. The paper towel turned red. The dogs started crying in slow motion. I very slowly got a fresh paper towel and somehow wobbled to the kitchen table, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer on the way.
Now, I didn't know what I was going to do with the ice pack, but I thought it would be helpful. I ended up seated at the table, ice pack on my chest, wrapped finger held above my head. The room spun and I wondered how in the name of Florence Nightingale and Steve Jobs I was going to get my phone, which was upstairs. I needed my phone to call my husband to come home and take me to the friggin' ER because I stabbed myself with a steak knife at friggin' 8:15 in the morning and was clearly suffering massive blood loss.
I hoped I wouldn't bleed out before he got home.
I sweated profusely and noticed that the dogs stopped whining. Their silence was a very "oh, shiiiiiiit - she's the only one with thumbs!" kind of silence.
Time was long dog time. My eyes didn't work. The ice pack was my BFF.
But then? Then I realized that I had kind of stopped hemorrhaging.
And like a Christmas miracle, I could suddenly see again.
After a few minutes, I pieced together that I had basically passed out from seeing my own blood. And my pajamas were soaked, because evidently you sweat when you pass out? Or at least klassy ladies who stab themselves with steak knives at 8:15 a.m. do?
Finally, I got up to survey the damage. I wasn't insane - there was blood in the sink and in the dog food dishes. It was so bright! So red! So dangerous!
So, I cleaned up the crime scene and fed the dogs - with no fish oil. Then, I trekked upstairs to secure a bandage and my phone, which is now Velcroed to my body at all times. And by "Velcroed," I mean "shoved in my bra," because, again, there are certain things that klassy ladies do.
My first order of business with said phone? I ordered some liquid fish oil. In a bottle. That doesn't require the use of any sharp objects.
Up next: How could the day get any better? How about pissing off the federal government!
Oh, girl friend, you and me are sisters in blood. I put a paring knife through a finger, getting ice cream out of a carton. It was a shinning moment in our marriage and a story told even by our kids when they almost called the law at the e.r.I still have no feeling in that finger, but I'm use to it now. Keep the cell phone close and put down the knife.
ReplyDeleteIt was one of those pull off tuna cans that almost did me in. I hope you and the thumbless dogs are not too traumatized.
ReplyDeleteI am just thankful that your wound does not prevent you from writing. This a perfect example of why I continue to use the dull knives I throw in the dishwasher instead of the beautiful set of reeeeeally sharp knives that reside in a cupboard. Heal quickly! P.S. Liquid fish oil ... brilliant!
ReplyDeleteSister Three, I'm sorry to rain on your sharp-implement parade, but you are actually much more likely to cut yourself with a DULL knife than with a SHARP one. One might argue that more people own and use dull knives, driving up the cuts-per-use average; but it's really because dull knives slip more, and need more force to do their evil work, inviting mayhem and bloodshed. Use the good knives. Better yet, make someone else do it.
ReplyDeleteI know the sharp vs. dull knife argument and while dull knives are dangerous, right after I got my knives sharpened was like open season on my fingers. I couldn't make dinner without accidentally putting a tiny bit of myself into the meal.
ReplyDeleteThe bottle of fish oil sounds like a great idea.
It's a wonder we don't all bleed to death on a daily basis! I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one ... but y'all be careful out there, m'kay?
ReplyDeleteIt's wrong to laugh at another's pain, right? Yes, yes, I thought so. In that case, my apologies. But...the poor dogs and their no thumbs! My cats would be just as sympathetic, I'm sure. (Glad you didn't bleed out.)
ReplyDeleteHoly cow--you fainted? That's so crazy. Thank goodness you didn't crack your head and REALLY hurt yourself!
ReplyDeleteHow many stitches?
The dogs didn't run and tell neighbors Cha Cha fell in the well? Shame on them!