Never A Dull Blade Moment

A little drama today. I was cutting veggies for stew. The last veggies were onions, and they were eye-searingly potent. I’m also really sensitive to onions, and I usually ask someone else to cut them. Today it was just me. Husband had just sharpened the knives, and they were slicing nicely. Except I could hardly see. Claire was standing on the chair next to me watching. Then I did a really dumb thing.

I lifted my left hand while holding the knife to wipe my eye with the back of my hand. I lifted my right hand without thinking to wipe my right eye, and I managed to drive my hand into the blade. The pain was immediate and surprisingly strong. I cried out and rushed to the sink, but it didn’t really bleed. I knew then it would need stitches (it’s about an inch deep and nearly and inch long). And I don’t have a strong stomach for my own gaping flesh or blood, so immediately I began to feel faint. Meanwhile, Claire is asking what’s wrong, what’s wrong?

I sat on the floor and called Husband’s cell phone. It went to voicemail. We have a system. If he doesn’t answer and it’s an emergency, I’m to call immediately again. I did, and he answered. I began to cry and talk and tell him what happened. He asked if I was okay, and I said I didn’t need 911 but I’d need stitches, please please come home. Then I burst into huge sobs. Claire has never seen me cry like this before.

Husband left work. And here’s where moving to south San Jose has not served us: it’s a 24 mile drive. Had it been rush hour, it would have taken him at least an hour to get home. It was noon, so I was lucky in that. I lay on the floor, pulling myself together. Claire kept patting me on the arm and face and saying, “Oh, it’s okay Mommy. You’ll be okay. I love you, Mommy. I love you very very much.” I went into the living room and lay down. She said, “Read me a book.” I said I wasn’t up to it. She replied, “No! Read me a book! It might make you feel better to read me a book.” So I did.

Meanwhile, I called my neighbor to see if she could watch Claire. My good neighbor said yes, and proceeded to come get Claire and walk with her to school to watch her sons in the Halloween parade. Claire was anxious about leaving me, but she had a great time.

So we drove all the way back up to Mountain View, where our medical practice has an urgent care facility. We arrived at a good time; no one was waiting. And yep, I needed three stitches. We returned home about 3 p.m. and I went to pick up Claire. She proceeded to put “band-aids” all over my hands to make them better. Later on at dinner she took them off and declared my boo-boos were all healed. Then she wanted to see the stitches, so I showed her. I said it would take awhile for it to heal. She said, “But then it will really really really really be all better!”

It was quite shocking for her to see me hurt and crying. I think she’ll be digesting the whole incident for awhile. And it probably goes without saying that I don’t plan to carve a pumpkin for Halloween tomorrow…

three stitches and a bunch of "bandages"
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