So, something awful happened at work this week. But in order for you to fully appreciate the story, I feel you need a little background. Oh, you don’t think so? Too bad I’m writing this instead of you… 🙂
When my former roommate Anne moved in with me, I was relieved. Mostly because I was not a fan of the living alone as was evidenced by my sleeping with a can of aerosol hairspray, my car keys, and a cell phone close to my head. (The hairspray was a mace fill-in because when I went to buy some, I couldn’t find it. In my female McGuyver brain and due to some past experiences, I thought a quick spritz of Aqua Net to the eye would be as effective, and was readily available at Wal-Mart.) Anyway, I barely slept until Anne moved in, bringing me peace of mind and exuding an enviable evening calm.
One of my other fears in living alone was that I would choke on something, or impale myself and no one would find me for weeks. I know, I know. I’m a little bit paranoid. It’s something I needed to work on…you’ll be glad to know that I’ve made good progress.
One of the first nights that Anne was there, I was cutting up vegetables and cut myself with a knife. I won’t lie. I kind of freaked out and yelled to Anne that I had cut myself, it looked kind of deep and asked her to bring some hydrogen peroxide to me right away. It turns out that after rinsing out and disinfecting my wound that it really wasn’t THAT big. From that time on, any time either of us had an injury we had a running joke about how the other needed hydrogen peroxide, stat! It’d probably be funnier if you were there, but I think it’s kind of funny all on it’s own.
Ahem. So. This week at work, I was tasked with sending out some books to radio stations in different states. I went to work taping, weighing and labeling boxes and was trucking right along when the packing tape dispenser caught on the bottom of my thumb and the teeth went horizontal drawing some blood.
In typical fashion, I jumped into action, dropping everything and running into the break room where the first aid kit was housed. It was bleeding pretty good (actually not a ton, but definately more than normal). I applied pressure to the wound, held it above my heart, rinsed it out with water, found some antibacterial disinfectint and squirted some of that in there, dried everything off and tried to bandage it. This proved to be more difficult than normal given the placement of my cut, plus it still needed a good amount of pressure to keep the bleeding down. So, like a seasoned OR nurse, I assembled my medical supplies. Medical scissors? Check. Medical tape? Yep. Sterile gauze? Ready to go! The end product looked a little bit like a cast…but without the hardening.
When I removed the bandage later that night, I discovered that the cut was rather small for all the drama I put myself through. And while I’m glad about the fact that I don’t need a tourniquet or an amputation, I’m a little relived that my instincts were so finely tuned just in case the situation had taken a turn for the worst.
I’m pleased to report that I’m typing this post using said thumb (and all my other fingers, too) and that it’s healing rather nicely, if I do say so myself. And the best part is that I’m alive with most of my blood in my body and no hairspray was needed.