Last night, after a long and injury-free day at work in my commercial kitchen (a HUGE accomplishment) I stroll into my bathroom, wash my face, dry my face and casually (and carelessly as it turns out) rummage about in an under the sink drawer for face cream. I find the cream, put a glob on my finger, close it and then, wait for it, rummage about again in the drawer to put the cream away. Easy enough right? WRONG-O! This is me we're talking about... The crowned klutz queen. In the process of forcing the innocuous jar of face cream back into its place, I got a cut on my ring finger. At first I thought it was from the drawer because the drawer is metal so I figured an errant wire was poking up. It hurt like the dickens but, as a mother, I was glad my finger found the wire and not our daughter's. (Be honest, how many of you Dear Readers, who are parents, think 'I'm glad it was me and not my child.' whenever you get injured or sick? ALL of you right? Yep.)
Anyway, my finger began bleeding. Just a little blood bubble at first and then, well, it really began to bleed! So there I am, standing in the bathroom, with hand cream on the finger of my right hand and blood pouring down my left hand, stunned and confused that a little errant wire could cause this sort of an injury; So stunned, it did not occur to me to wipe the cream from my finger so I could apply pressure to the injury.
Ever sensitive to my injuries, my husband came into the room, looks at my finger, sees the cream and says 'Wipe the cream off and wrap that thing!" Yeah, love you too honey... You might laugh but my face cream is expensive and I did not want to waste it! Here is what I did. I fumble around in the drawer (yes, the same drawer I just cut my hand in) to find the jar of cream, make my husband open the jar so I can wipe the cream back inside and apply it later, once the bleeding has stopped. Russ, my husband, looks on this insane activity with utter disbelief and then, calmly says, 'There's blood in the cream Hon.' Well fudge! (I used another word here Dear Readers.) Russ carefully searches in the drawer for the wire I cut myself on and instead retrieves a razor, chock full of my left finger tip! OOPS! Russ actually looks at me and says, wait for it, 'You really shouldn't store razors without their protective cover Mary. You have to stop doing that.' Are you kidding me? Now it's my turn to look at Russell like he is insane (and dumb.) What sort of a moronic goofball says this to someone? Really? I ask you Dear Readers?
I kick Russell out to his dog house with Lollipop (our dog) and ask our daughter, Mia, to help wrap my finger in piles of gauze, I mean piles too and then paper tape. As the cut was gushing, I just kept adding gauze and pads never thinking for a second all this was upsetting Mia, I was a bit preoccupied. (The sight of blood does not bother me.) I look up at Mia and the poor kid is nearly green! She powered through however and together we assembled a wrapping. Next, I went along with some activities thinking all the while this thing will stop bleeding at some point. Wrong again... I went through all the layers of gaze (3 pads, each doubled) in about 10 minutes. I call my mother, if nothing else to validate Russell is in fact a complete moron and she said 'Yes, he is a moron.' in a matter-of-fact tone. (Thank you mother.) Next, she suggested using a maxi pad to catch the blood. (After all, I don't want to make a mess!) This was not pretty but the plastic liner prevented my bleeding through anything. Brilliant tip for bad injuries. My mother Ellen is a genius!
Avid home cook and passionate instructor