Well, not entirely graphic, but perhaps not for those of a weaker constitution. Or who find the thought of blood and gore a bit icky... But it explains how making dinner can lead to only being able to type with one hand.
Anyhoo!
So there I was, making dinner, merrily singing away to myself (okay, I wasn't singing, but it sounds so much more 1950s housewife, doesn't it?) when the knife I was using slipped and went almost all the way through my index finger on my left hand. I think I screamed, I'm not sure. The whole thing was kind of a bit of blur in my memory. But I think there was swearing involved?
Cut to the next thing I remember being standing there with a knife stuck in my finger. Oh my goodness, indescribable pain, all the way through my hand and up my arm, me thinking, "Breathe deeply, just pull it out," so I did. Cue loads of blood, me almost fainting for the first time in my life because it brought me too close to seeing my fingers own insides, rushing around to find bandaids and strapping it up tightly. Then changing the bandaids in a few minutes 'cos blood had come through them already.
Ewwww! *shudder*
But that's how I'm typing with one hand. It's amazing how much the left hand is used, even though I'm right-handed. Kind of only realised how much use it gets when I automatically go to do anything with it, which hurts. Moral of the story: be nice to your fingers. Maybe buy them some chocolates to say thanks for being such fantastic things. Don't stab them.
Ohhh, MASSIVE thanks to Clare and her prayer group for praying for my finger. Muchos, muchos gracias!
No comments:
Post a Comment