Do you know how hard it is to type with an incapacitated digit? (Thank goodness I’m not suffering a decapitated cranium!)
The night before last, while doing dishes and preparing supper, I went to hang up a dish towel on the oven handle. The pinkie on my left hand got caught in an air vent flange and was cut. Severely. I didn’t see the severity right away, not until Hubby went to work bandaging it after I ran it under water. Blood. Gushing. And gushing. And gushing. Out of a skin flap. Blech!
Normally I’m not a see-blood-feel-woozy sort of person, but the combination of blood and hunger affected my head and I suddenly felt as though I was going to pass out. I made a bee-line for the couch and got horizontal. The wooziness cleared and was further helped by the pizza Erik brought to me. (Isn’t he a sweet nurse?)
Because of the severity of the wound, I was scared to remove the bandage yesterday morning. I didn’t shower so I wouldn’t get it wet. (Nothing like compounding the blechyness.) In the evening, I decided it was time to tackle The Changing of the Bandage and used a tiny scissor to cut it off, rather than risk pulling at the scab by ripping off the bandage. As I got down to the interior bandage (oh, yeah, there were layers), I discovered the wet, pooled blood from the night before. Double blech! I reminded myself I could get through this by calling to mind the commercials for the movie “127 Hours,” which is based on the true story of a guy who got his arm caught under a boulder and had to cut it off because help was not forthcoming. (Hardly comparable situations, but, hey, it got me through.)
I have since changed the bandage several times, but it’s damned impossible to use that finger for typing now. I keep hitting keys I shouldn’t be hitting and having to compensate by using my ring finger to select the “a” key. Acres of fun, I tell you.
Hope your finger heals fast.
Is pizza part of the man code for caring a sick spouse? The Big Guy got pizza twice since I fractured my ankle Friday.
This sounds like a dangerous juxtaposition of oven handles and air vent flanges. Thought this was a trip to stitchville too. And yet you blogged, which displays an amazing amount of courage that, at the very least, equals if not surpasses that of 127 Hours. : P
Truthfully though, hope that heals up well for you soon with as little pain as possible.
Dee – Your injury is definitely worse than mine. Holy cow! How did you fracture your ankle? Hope it heals quickly.
I would say that pizza is the man food for sickness, except that we were baking a pizza before my injury happened. Just a coincidence this time ’round.
LK – Hubby thought I might need stitches when he first saw it, but it seems to be healing fast. It didn’t hurt when I got the cut, but it throbbed for a while right after. I’m now down to two bandages, rather than one non-stick pad and four bandages to hold the pad on. Still having to compensate with my typing, but it’s a small price to pay.
No big story about the ankle just stepped down into the living room and rolled my ankle. I’ve fractured this ankle before.
I’ve found that cuts often hurt more once they start healing.
Ah, the one wrong move. My ankles were particularly weak when I was a kid, and I was forever twisting and spraining them. I couldn’t ice skate due to this (not that I was heartbroken; I didn’t care for the cold). They seem to be stronger now, although I still don’t ice skate.
Know this is a geographical thing took me a minute to figure out the ice skating being too cold. Only place we had to ice skate was the rink at the mall. It was really nice on days it was 110 outside.