Adventures in creative digit modification
Feb. 7th, 2013 07:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
missroseroseHave I bragged to you about our super-sharp kitchen knives before? Well, let me do so again.
Our kitchen knives are extremely sharp. As I discovered once again, yesterday, when I was cutting limes for a drink and managed to slice the tip of my thumb half-off.
Fortunately, the local hospital, while small, actually has a quite-nice emergency room. I was only waiting an hour (which, according to the staff, is unusually long - I guess it had been a particularly strange day) and they were very capable folks. They put some medical superglue on it along with a bandage to help remind me to keep it dry, and that was that. It wasn't even all that painful; honestly, the worst part of the experience was probably having to listen to Dr. Phil on the TV while we were in the waiting room. (Fortunately I had my back to the television, so I was able to read my book and sort of tune it out.) Well, and the Impending Bill, of course. But given that I hardly needed any sort of tests or anything, I doubt it'll be more than a couple hundred dollars.
Brian was a sweetheart and came and waited with me, despite the fact that he really didn't need to. We had a conversation to that effect, even:
Me: If you need to get back to work, you can go. You don't have to stay here with me and listen to Dr. Phil.
Brian: No, I'm staying.
Me: Seriously, I've got my book, it's nothing life-threatening. I can call you when they've finished stitching me up.
Brian: No, I don't want to be an asshole husband.
Me: You're not being an asshole if I tell you it's okay. I appreciate the company, don't get me wrong. But I don't want you to feel like you have to be here or anything.
Brian: ...the last time I left someone at the hospital, they died. I'm not leaving you here.
My husband is a little neurotic and very sweet. <3
Anyway, I was sent home with doctor's permission for as much ibuprofen and booze as I wanted (though I didn't actually end up taking any - it's hardly hurt at all other than that vague "you done messed something up" ache). And Brian even managed to save my drink by sticking it in the fridge before we left. Plus, I discovered that I am, in fact, capable of putting in my contacts quite quickly one-handed. (Which is good to know.) And since it was my left thumb, it shouldn't interfere with guitar practice for long.
Now that the practical part's all over and done with, I'm feeling sort of...adrift. Not bad, exactly, just a little down. Maybe it's the sudden sharp reminder of the fact that I'm flesh and blood, just like everyone else. Or perhaps it's the lingering aftereffects of the adrenaline. Hopefully I'll be back to my normal cheerful self soon.
Our kitchen knives are extremely sharp. As I discovered once again, yesterday, when I was cutting limes for a drink and managed to slice the tip of my thumb half-off.
Fortunately, the local hospital, while small, actually has a quite-nice emergency room. I was only waiting an hour (which, according to the staff, is unusually long - I guess it had been a particularly strange day) and they were very capable folks. They put some medical superglue on it along with a bandage to help remind me to keep it dry, and that was that. It wasn't even all that painful; honestly, the worst part of the experience was probably having to listen to Dr. Phil on the TV while we were in the waiting room. (Fortunately I had my back to the television, so I was able to read my book and sort of tune it out.) Well, and the Impending Bill, of course. But given that I hardly needed any sort of tests or anything, I doubt it'll be more than a couple hundred dollars.
Brian was a sweetheart and came and waited with me, despite the fact that he really didn't need to. We had a conversation to that effect, even:
Me: If you need to get back to work, you can go. You don't have to stay here with me and listen to Dr. Phil.
Brian: No, I'm staying.
Me: Seriously, I've got my book, it's nothing life-threatening. I can call you when they've finished stitching me up.
Brian: No, I don't want to be an asshole husband.
Me: You're not being an asshole if I tell you it's okay. I appreciate the company, don't get me wrong. But I don't want you to feel like you have to be here or anything.
Brian: ...the last time I left someone at the hospital, they died. I'm not leaving you here.
My husband is a little neurotic and very sweet. <3
Anyway, I was sent home with doctor's permission for as much ibuprofen and booze as I wanted (though I didn't actually end up taking any - it's hardly hurt at all other than that vague "you done messed something up" ache). And Brian even managed to save my drink by sticking it in the fridge before we left. Plus, I discovered that I am, in fact, capable of putting in my contacts quite quickly one-handed. (Which is good to know.) And since it was my left thumb, it shouldn't interfere with guitar practice for long.
Now that the practical part's all over and done with, I'm feeling sort of...adrift. Not bad, exactly, just a little down. Maybe it's the sudden sharp reminder of the fact that I'm flesh and blood, just like everyone else. Or perhaps it's the lingering aftereffects of the adrenaline. Hopefully I'll be back to my normal cheerful self soon.
no subject
Date: 2013-02-07 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-07 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-08 02:12 am (UTC)And of course Brian stayed with you; I would have, too, and I don't even think I'm very neurotic. :)
no subject
Date: 2013-02-08 02:43 am (UTC)