On Christmas day, I was cleaning up the counter and picked up the GLASS jar that held all my silverware and it shattered in my hand. I felt the glass cutting into my poor little pinkie finger and thought, "Oh crap." I looked at my finger and the blood was coming out immediately. Next thought, "Uh Oh..."
Now, if you know me, I cannot stand cuts that draw blood or especially ones that require stitches. I "go down," meaning, I must lay down on the floor with my feet above my heart and breathe deeply...and go to my happy place.
So, back to Christmas. When the blood appeared, I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around my finger and went out to where everyone was sitting. My mom jumped up instantly and said, "Did you cut yourself?" She is awesome like that...she knew even without my telling her! Or it might have been that i was swaying like I was on a boat ready to capsize!! I immediately start to look for a place to "rest." In the background i can hear my sister...
"and..."
"she....."
"is...."
"DOWN!"
She is awesome like that...calling out the play by play...just in case the family hadn't noticed me laying in the middle of the living room floor.
I then started the sweat thing...that cold clammy sweating. Yuck. So I tell all, "I'm sweating!" Mom asks my sister," Can you get her a cold wash cloth for her head." Never fear Meg to the rescue! She goes and gets a large, soaked hand towel and places it on my face...it's that large. (But I don't say anything, because Megan is distraught...she had lost one of her gloves right before I went down.)
Thank goodness my mom was/is a nurse and she immediately begins to tend to my wound. Unfortunately, she begins to use words likes stitches and meat.
"If you need stitches, you would only need one or two."
"I am going to look to see if there is any glass in your finger."
"I am just checking if you cut into the meat."
I politely say, "Please don't use the word meat." But she doesn't hear me due to the large towel covering my face and she uses it two more times.
Meanwhile, Megan is in the background, "Has anyone seen my glove?"
In about 15 minutes, all is good. I am bandaged up, Jason cleaned up the glass and silverware and Megan found her glove.
The next morning, I bumped my pinkie and it bled a little.
The night before, mom had shared that if the bleeding didn't stop, I would need stitches.
While holding a wash cloth to my pinkie, I thought, "Wow. I have a cut that might have needed stitched..but it isn't"
Hmmm...I'm tough like that.
So, back to Christmas. When the blood appeared, I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around my finger and went out to where everyone was sitting. My mom jumped up instantly and said, "Did you cut yourself?" She is awesome like that...she knew even without my telling her! Or it might have been that i was swaying like I was on a boat ready to capsize!! I immediately start to look for a place to "rest." In the background i can hear my sister...
"and..."
"she....."
"is...."
"DOWN!"
She is awesome like that...calling out the play by play...just in case the family hadn't noticed me laying in the middle of the living room floor.
I then started the sweat thing...that cold clammy sweating. Yuck. So I tell all, "I'm sweating!" Mom asks my sister," Can you get her a cold wash cloth for her head." Never fear Meg to the rescue! She goes and gets a large, soaked hand towel and places it on my face...it's that large. (But I don't say anything, because Megan is distraught...she had lost one of her gloves right before I went down.)
Thank goodness my mom was/is a nurse and she immediately begins to tend to my wound. Unfortunately, she begins to use words likes stitches and meat.
"If you need stitches, you would only need one or two."
"I am going to look to see if there is any glass in your finger."
"I am just checking if you cut into the meat."
I politely say, "Please don't use the word meat." But she doesn't hear me due to the large towel covering my face and she uses it two more times.
Meanwhile, Megan is in the background, "Has anyone seen my glove?"
In about 15 minutes, all is good. I am bandaged up, Jason cleaned up the glass and silverware and Megan found her glove.
The next morning, I bumped my pinkie and it bled a little.
The night before, mom had shared that if the bleeding didn't stop, I would need stitches.
While holding a wash cloth to my pinkie, I thought, "Wow. I have a cut that might have needed stitched..but it isn't"
Hmmm...I'm tough like that.
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