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Poetry and snark blogger who also has a creative side (who knew?)

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Knives, and Needles, and Blood--Oh Crap!

It seemed like a good idea at the time. I would make a tasty, nutritious, dinner for my family in my slow cooker. I had just the recipe, too: chicken chili. Not too complicated but many ingredients, lots of spices, several steps, and prolonged cooking time. "I can do this!" I said to myself, as I assembled my mis en place. Everything was in the crock pot- chicken, beans, onions, chilis, broth, spices-when I realized that I had forgotten the garlic. Did I just dump some conveniently bottled garlic powder into the mixture and go? Oh no! "Only fresh will do!" I said to myself," and grabbed 2 cloves of garlic to peel. That's where it all went wrong, oh so terribly wrong.

I realize that I was dabbling in dangerous territory best left to the professionals, but I was heady with visions of homemade chili. I grabbed the knife, laid it down sideways on an unpeeled garlic clove, and slammed my hand down on it down HARD. I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong! I did not cut myself with the knife, and the little garlic clove popped out of its skin like a stripper out of a cake. I did, however, bring my hand down on the lid of an empty can of chilis that was sitting out next to the garlic clove. Hmmm, not good.

I looked at my right index finger and saw a vertical slice from about the knuckle joint down to the palm. It wasn't bleeding too much at first. "Maybe it's just like a paper cut," I said to myself (at this point, I should've stopped talking to myself, as it had only gotten me into trouble so far.) So, I played Doctor Lolamouse and examined the finger slice. Bad move. I saw stuff in that opening that I should not have seen. Blood starting seeping out everywhere. Several feet of paper towels and lots of gauze later, it was still bleeding. Off to the ER I went!

Here's a head scratcher-what is it about being questioned by medical personnel that makes me, normally a savvy medical consumer and generally intelligent person, turn into a stuttering, borderline mentally retarded amnesiac? Suddenly, I can't remember what medications I take, when I had my last tetanus shot, when my last period was, what I weigh, where I live, or who I am! I can just mumble "cut finger" and hold up my bloody gauze wrapped digit to whoever looks at me.

I get taken back to a room where I'm given a tetanus shot (since I can't remember when I had my last one, of course!) and told by a very nice doctor that I will need stitches. He proceeds to administer a lidocaine injection, which feels like a hive a angry bees has attacked my finger, but then it goes blissfully numb. After 4 stitches, I'm done. My finger is swollen from the lidocaine and looks like an overstuffed Vienna sausage. The needlework is exquisite!

So, what have we learned from this little adventure in blood and guts? Cooking is a dangerous activity, children, and should be left to the pros. Learn from my mistake-stay out of the kitchen; stay out of the hospital. DON'T DO DINNER!!!

My new stitches!!!

1 comment:

  1. Ouchie! Ouchie!

    Darn accidents in the kitchen.
    I gave that up... cause it hurts. ;0)


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