Fillet O' Finger
Yesterday, during George's GURPS world-building campaign at modernmyths, I bought one of those Japanese soft drinks -- the kind that comes in a clear glass bottle stoppered by a glass marble.
After finishing the beverage, I decided to extricate the marble. What fun it would be to use it in a crafting project -- a wire-wrapped pendant perhaps -- and then to tell my fellow craft/gamer geeks where I'd gotten it. But the plastic top (into which the marble had been fitted) was securely attached to the neck of the bottle.
I enlisted George to assist me, and he tried to pry the plastic piece off with various tools on his Swiss army knife. While the plastic wouldn't budge, a ridge of glass on the bottle neck did start to chip. So then he decided to try to cut the plastic with the knife.
The blade of the knife slipped, and he nicked his finger. He didn't fillet it, though. Oh, no. That titular glory belongs to me. See, I didn't want him to injure himself further, so I told him to forget about it.
I, however, was unable to do so. A little later, I took out my own Swiss army knife -- the one George gave me for my birthday. I opened the largest blade, set it against the bottle, and attempted to saw at the plastic part.
Almost immediately, the blade slipped. While it barely nicked the plastic, the blade (which had never before seen any action) sliced neatly into the tip of my right-hand middle finger.
So there I was, seated at the gaming table at Modern Myths, surrounded by my fiance and fellow players, trying to downplay the profusion of blood on my fingertip.
I ran the finger under the faucet in the bathroom. It stung a little, in the way that a nice clean cut usually does. I swathed it in paper towels, then covered it with a couple adhesive bandages I'd had in my jacket pocket. (I often carry a few bandages with me, as it's not uncommon for me to chew a fingernail down to the quick or make a cuticle bleed.)
Coincidentally, my character also injured herself: while hunting wild sheep, her bowstring broke and snapped back at her. Fortunately for both of us, the game ended shortly thereafter.
When we got back to George's apartment, he helped me rinse the cut. Unfortunately, it wouldn't stop bleeding long enough for me to put on a new bandage. George wanted to take me to the emergency room; I didn't think the injury was urgent enough. But then I applied a bit of pressure to the pad of my finger, below the cut, causing a flap of skin to pull further away from the rest of the finger...and giving me a better look of exactly how far the blade had gone.
So we went to the emergency room of Cooley Dickinson Hospital...where we would spend the next 4 hours. (I read the cartoons from every back-dated New Yorker in the waiting area.) Blah.
When the doctor examined me, he said I'd essentially "filleted" my finger. (Hence the title.) The nurse gave me a tetanus shot (despite George's request that he be allowed to administer it), and I dipped and swished my finger first in a liquid anesthetic, then in iodine, and finally in a saline solution. This left the wound much less tender and bloody (though still a bit purple) and the pad of my finger rather pruny.
Once my finger had been prepped, the doctor sealed it with Dermabond. This transparent "skin glue" was packaged in a small vial with a spongy applicator at the tip. In other words, it was like being dabbed by a wee little liquid-glue stick. (Yes, for once I was not the crafter, but the craftee.)
Finally, the nurse's assistant wrapped my finger in a few layers of some sort of bandage -- a gauzy self-adhesive (but, like cellophane, sticking only to itself) tape the color of an Ace bandage. (Does anyone know what this is called? I think it begins with a "C.")
I was instructed to leave the dressing on for at least one full day. The Dermabond, apparently, will last for five.
My fingertip is a little tender, but I can still (as you've probably guessed) type without difficulty. It only hurts if too much pressure is applied to the area.
This morning, I smashed the bottle with a hammer and obtained the coveted marble. And goddammit, I'll incorporate that thing into a craft project if it kills me...which it just might.
After finishing the beverage, I decided to extricate the marble. What fun it would be to use it in a crafting project -- a wire-wrapped pendant perhaps -- and then to tell my fellow craft/gamer geeks where I'd gotten it. But the plastic top (into which the marble had been fitted) was securely attached to the neck of the bottle.
I enlisted George to assist me, and he tried to pry the plastic piece off with various tools on his Swiss army knife. While the plastic wouldn't budge, a ridge of glass on the bottle neck did start to chip. So then he decided to try to cut the plastic with the knife.
The blade of the knife slipped, and he nicked his finger. He didn't fillet it, though. Oh, no. That titular glory belongs to me. See, I didn't want him to injure himself further, so I told him to forget about it.
I, however, was unable to do so. A little later, I took out my own Swiss army knife -- the one George gave me for my birthday. I opened the largest blade, set it against the bottle, and attempted to saw at the plastic part.
Almost immediately, the blade slipped. While it barely nicked the plastic, the blade (which had never before seen any action) sliced neatly into the tip of my right-hand middle finger.
So there I was, seated at the gaming table at Modern Myths, surrounded by my fiance and fellow players, trying to downplay the profusion of blood on my fingertip.
I ran the finger under the faucet in the bathroom. It stung a little, in the way that a nice clean cut usually does. I swathed it in paper towels, then covered it with a couple adhesive bandages I'd had in my jacket pocket. (I often carry a few bandages with me, as it's not uncommon for me to chew a fingernail down to the quick or make a cuticle bleed.)
Coincidentally, my character also injured herself: while hunting wild sheep, her bowstring broke and snapped back at her. Fortunately for both of us, the game ended shortly thereafter.
When we got back to George's apartment, he helped me rinse the cut. Unfortunately, it wouldn't stop bleeding long enough for me to put on a new bandage. George wanted to take me to the emergency room; I didn't think the injury was urgent enough. But then I applied a bit of pressure to the pad of my finger, below the cut, causing a flap of skin to pull further away from the rest of the finger...and giving me a better look of exactly how far the blade had gone.
So we went to the emergency room of Cooley Dickinson Hospital...where we would spend the next 4 hours. (I read the cartoons from every back-dated New Yorker in the waiting area.) Blah.
When the doctor examined me, he said I'd essentially "filleted" my finger. (Hence the title.) The nurse gave me a tetanus shot (despite George's request that he be allowed to administer it), and I dipped and swished my finger first in a liquid anesthetic, then in iodine, and finally in a saline solution. This left the wound much less tender and bloody (though still a bit purple) and the pad of my finger rather pruny.
Once my finger had been prepped, the doctor sealed it with Dermabond. This transparent "skin glue" was packaged in a small vial with a spongy applicator at the tip. In other words, it was like being dabbed by a wee little liquid-glue stick. (Yes, for once I was not the crafter, but the craftee.)
Finally, the nurse's assistant wrapped my finger in a few layers of some sort of bandage -- a gauzy self-adhesive (but, like cellophane, sticking only to itself) tape the color of an Ace bandage. (Does anyone know what this is called? I think it begins with a "C.")
I was instructed to leave the dressing on for at least one full day. The Dermabond, apparently, will last for five.
My fingertip is a little tender, but I can still (as you've probably guessed) type without difficulty. It only hurts if too much pressure is applied to the area.
This morning, I smashed the bottle with a hammer and obtained the coveted marble. And goddammit, I'll incorporate that thing into a craft project if it kills me...which it just might.