This weekend I made my first ever batch of hummus. Pretty good if I do say so myself. I used Tahini like real hummus makers do. I've been meaning to do this for a while, but I finally got around to it Saturday afternoon. After I made hummus I diligently washed my large food processor and set it in the drying rack to be put away at its earliest convenience.
Well, that time came sooner rather than later because my roommate had her mentee (the 11-year-old girl she mentors) over to make dinner that night. They needed the food processor box off the table, so I decided the processor was dry enough and could safely be put away. Emphasis on the 'safely'...I'm foreshadowing here....
My roommate even offered to do this for me. Sweet girl. But, it was my mess, and it was my job to put it away so I painstakingly put the pieces back in the styrofoam they came in and, with one exception, I had them in their proper places. The once exception was the cheese grater/cutter circular blade. This is where it gets dicey, folks (and I mean dicey. literally). If you have a weak stomach read no further. This means you, Sarah Ray.
I start sliding the styrofoam and all of the pieces inside the box and am doing a pretty good job so I let go of the pieces and allow them to slide the rest of the way into the box. Well, apparently I did not do a very good job of getting my finger out of the way because in an instant I feel a sharp pain and realize the cheese slicer is a whole lot sharper than I ever imagined. Sharp enough to cut off the tip of a finger, that's for sure. Because that's what it did. I cursed, ran to the kitchen, stuck my finger under the cold water, and assessed the damage. Meanwhile, my poor roommate and this cute-head 11-year-old are confused and freaked out because they have no idea why I'm cursing, running, and bleeding.
Quickly I explain: I just cut the tip of my finger off. I think I might need to go to the ER. We deliberate over this for a moment. Decide it's a good idea and I put my calm, nurse face on. I calmly tell them they must find the tip of my finger in the box. NOT something anyone ever wants to hear. But they did it like champs. Holding it in my hand was rather surreal. I knew it had once been a part of me, but it looked like it was silicone; like it was fake, or, non-viable, as the ER doc would later describe it.
I had them put together a bag of ice, I put my plastic piece of finger inside the bag of ice, and off we went. We decide to go to the Urgent Care near our house. Good idea, I think. I'm not in danger of losing life or limb here, I've only lost a portion of a part of a limb. It's fine. But when we get there it's CLOSED!!! What??! Ridiculous. It's 6:30pm on a Saturday night. Saturday nights are when things get urgent, Urgent Care!
I often come up with extreme scenarios in my head. You know, test myself to make sure if I were ever in a desperate situation I could survive. I do this when I'm hiking: What would I do if I were alone in the woods and attacked by a bear? OR What would I do if I got in a plane crash in the middle of the woods and had to survive for a long time like the the book Hatchet? Sometimes I ask myself: If I were to have an accident, which hospital would I choose? Well, here was my chance to put my weird habit to use. Because I had to make a choice. Denver Health or Porter? Denver Health is where all the gun shot wounds and ruffians end up. Not that I care, but it means the wait times are going to be longer, so I choose Porter. Good choice. I got right in!
The doc enters. He's very nice. He asks me some questions, tells me he won't be sewing my non-viable finger tip back on, and sends the nurse in to numb me up and we get started. Nurse Maggie is also very nice. We develop a great little rapport while I'm there. She numbs my whole finger, which apparently has been known to make grown men cry, and she praises me for taking it like a champ. I like being praised when I go to the doctor. It's like getting a lollypop or a sticker or something. Only it's the grown up version.
After this, EMT Kevin comes in. He introduces himself: "Hi, my name is Kevin, and I'll be irrigating your finger". I introduce myself: "Hi, my name is Megan, and I'll be letting you do that". He cleans it, puts some stuff on it, and wraps it. At which point Nurse Maggie reenters and I tell them both my finger looks like a penis. Which it did! I'm only calling it like I see it. Kevin laughed. Maggie was a bit taken aback I think. Sorry Maggie.
After this, they let me go. I leave, sign some papers now that I have useable hands again and realize I'm bleeding through my bandage. Awesome. So I go back in. They rewrap, make me sit there for a half an hour, and release me assured I will not be bleeding out.
All in all a rather hilarious experience. I really enjoyed pretty much every part of it. I even went out that night afterward. Granted, I apparently was a bit more frazzled than I thought because I forgot my coat and lost my debit card at some point (and I never lose anything). However, I have been given ample opportunity to flip people off, which is nice.
My one regret? Not receiving any stitches. That, and the fact that they threw away the tip of my finger without so much as an offer to say farewell. That bit of my finger has been with me since birth. And now it's gone. In the trash. Disregarded as a "non-viable" piece of tissue. Tragic.
All in all I'd say I had a pretty great weekend. Lots of laughs. A good story. And good company.
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