So we get back late from Montana on Sunday night. I got about 5 hours of sleep and went to work Monday morning. Actually felt pretty good and decided to go to Walmart and get groceries and make my lunch for the week. Kyle was golfing with the boys, I have The Bachelorette on TV, browning meat, doing my thing. I get out my veggies and use a knife to cut. And I remember I have this awesome mandoline.
See that guard on the bottom left? I forgot to grab that. I had the zucchini in hand and sliced two, maybe 3 slices. And I remember Mary Lou telling me to never use the mandoline without the guard. And then it happened. It happened so quickly that I don't remember it hurting. I sliced the end of my finger. Almost off.
That blade is so razor sharp that it went through my pinky finger like a knife in warm butter. I am home alone, and blood is everywhere. I scream and turn on the water faucet. And the end of my finger flaps open and I realize how badly I have cut it. It is barely hanging on. I am now shaking, sweating and blood is gushing. I call Kyle once, twice, three times. He finally picks up and I am screaming. Not crying, screaming. He didn't ask any details, he just told me to meet him at Urgent Care. As I grab the ice bin out of the freezer, I knock out some chocolate ice cream bars. I grab my purse and an ice pack and open the door to the garage. Where I fainted. Smack my knee on the concrete floor and now that is bleeding. I hit the recycling bin on my way down. I come to, get up and open the garage door. Sophie runs out. I chase her down (with my hand still bleeding and holding an ice pack) throw her back in the house and drive as fast as I can to urgent care.
I somewhat calmly tell the lady that I have cut my finger badly. She very calmly says, we will need you to fill out this paperwork. And I about lose it. Luckily Kyle walked in and grabbed the paperwork for me. A nurse came to get us and took me to a room to take my blood pressure and temperature. I had been sweating for about 30 mins, a cold sweat, and my clothes (I was in a romper cause I didn't plan on leaving the house) and she couldn't even get my temperature to register. I was convinced I was dead. I tried to convince her to sedate me, but she explained that they don't do that. So I asked for the strongest pain meds they had. Pretty sure they flagged me in the system as a drug addict. Now Kyle and the nurse are laughing at me.
Here comes Doc. She is gonna stitch me up. But first she has to tell me how badly I have sliced myself up. Oh yeah, you got the fingernail, too. I told her just to keep the comments to herself and get to work. She numbed it twice, which hurt but by this point I was pretty sure I was dying anyway. Then she tried to numb IN THE WOUND. I yelled and told her no. Just no, you cannot do that. She waited a few min, numbed the base of the finger again. I was looking the other way, nervously tapping Kyle's hand and had no clue she was sticking the needle directly into the wound. Thank god for pain meds/numbing shots. She stitched the piece of flesh back on, 5 stitches. Hand actually felt kinda cool being numb. I sent Kyle home to clean up the murder scene, and to get those chocolate ice cream bars away from the dogs. Nurse came in and cleaned me up, along with my knee, and bandaged me. Just some neosporin and two bandaids. I could have done that. Give me something fancy. Like gauze. I pay my $50 deductible, and head home. I call my mom and start to cry for the first time.
Kyle was the bomb. He ran of the golf course (despite having 6 birdies and 4 more holes to go) and was there in a flash. He knew how scared I was and held my hand and told me I would be fine. Austin said it best last night: "you know you have a good man when he doesn't ask any questions, he just goes to you when you need him."
The worst part is over but it still is not a joy. The end of my finger is essentially being held on by stitches. It throbs, it looks scary and the flesh I cut off could still fall off. Kyle has been cleaning it and bandaging it for me. I have to have the stitches taken out next Thurs or Fri. Let's just hope when the stitches come out, the end of my finger stays on.
For my readers who are not easily grossed out,
click here for a pic
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