Aron and I
Aron and I
My friend Theater Guy has a fascination with the climber Aron Ralston, the climber who got stuck while hiking in Utah, and had to cut his own arm off with his pocket knife. Personally I never saw the reason for the fascination... but now, now I understand the plight of one Aron Ralston.
My story started out in my apartment, I was enjoying a late night of watching television after a hard day of work. Little did I know that the events that would soon take place, would change my life forever.
I was sitting on the couch, watching the evening news when I thought, "I could be multi-tasking right now!" There were dirty dishes in the dishwasher, they needed to be washed, but could I tackle washing both the dishes, and seeing how getting a pedicure could kill you? I knew taking on two tasks at once would be challenging, but I felt that years of television watching, and dish washing seperately had prepared me for such an event.
I prepared by first angling the television a bit, so I could see the screen from behind the kitchen sink. I rolled up my sleeves, and started to run the hot water. My heart beat raced as I looked at the pile of dirty dishes that sat before me in the sink. I poured some dish soap out over the dishes. Suds were soon appearing everywhere as the water made it's way through the empty spaces between the dishes.
I looked up at the television as I started scrubbing the plates.
Apparently you can catch bacteria from places that give pedicures... a lady from Ft. Worth, Texas apparently died from picking up some sort of bacteria while getting a pedicure.
"What is this world coming to?" I thought out loud, just then, the wet plate slipped out of my hand and fell into the sink with a thud. I thought I had broken the plate. I chastized myself for not keeping my head in the game. If I was going to successfully watch television and clean the dishes I couldn't pay more attention to one than the other. I was lucky though, the plate didn't break. I'd learned my lesson, and I was ready to take on all the other dishes.
It only took about ten minutes before I felt the worst was over. There was only a mixing bowl left, and the news was in a commercial break, the sports segment was about to be on. I felt home free. My task accomplished. I looked behind me to wipe down the counter tops, and there it was, one last dish. It was a giant butcher's knife. I'd used it the previous day to cut a pizza, as I have no pizza cutter.
"One more dish, then I'm home free." I said to myself.
I picked up the knife, and for a brief moment thought about simply tossing it into the dish washer, but then though otherwise. Now I sort of wished I'd listened to my gut, as sometimes in life, all you have are your guts and instincts to go on.
I put the knife in the dishwater and started to scrub the blade with my sponge.
The news had come back on by this point, more specifically the sports segment. The sportscaster was talking about the upcoming game between the Dallas Mavericks and the San Antonio Spurs. I was hooked, too hooked. It was while I was watching this report that the sponge sliped off the blade, and because I was scrubbing in a back and forth motion, my finger slammed straight up against the blade.
I knew something had gone terribly wrong when I felt the sharp pain shoot up my arm. I had sliced my finger open, and there was nothing I could do about it. I pulled my hadn up from the dish water and looked at my finger.
"Oh, just a small cut, nothing to be worried..." it was at that point the wound started to bleed, and bleed. I quickly turned the tap water back on and let the water rinse out the cut. I looked around for a paper towel, but there were none within sight. The blood kept pouring out of my finger... I knew I had to stop the bleeding, but I wasn't sure how. I was stuck in the kitchen with a bloody cut on my finger, and no paper towels with which I could stem the bleeding. I briskly walked to the bathroom and pulled a few squares of toilet paper off the toilet paper roll. I ran my finger under more water, then took the rubbing alchohol out of the cabinet. I gritted my teeth as I poured the rubbing alchohol over my open wound. I wrapped my finger in toilet paper, and looked for band aides, unfortunately, I would never find them. I kept my finger wrapped in toilet paper for the rest of the night, until I fell asleep.
The next morning I woke up and walked into the kitchen, the site of my horrible accident. There was a spot of dried blood on the rim of the sink. I looked at my finger, there was a bruise and a very visible cut from where the knife had sliced it open.
I wasn't going to let this ruin my life, I knew I had to keep going, I wasn't going to let this slow me down.
I went to work as usual, but I would soon find out that my ordeal from the previous night would effect me in more ways than one.
My first problem was having to write out a message to one of my co-workers. The pressure put on my finger from writing the note was intense. I nearly blacked out from the pain. Later on in the day I tried to hi-five my friend, but I pulled back when I remembered the cut on my finger. Would I ever be the same again? Even now as I type this I fear that my finger might start to bleed again.
I know that with time I'll learn to live with my cut finger. I know that some day soon I'll walk again into the kitchen and clean the dirty dishes, and maybe even watch the television while washing, and only then will I have come full circle, and I look forward to the challenge.
My friend Theater Guy has a fascination with the climber Aron Ralston, the climber who got stuck while hiking in Utah, and had to cut his own arm off with his pocket knife. Personally I never saw the reason for the fascination... but now, now I understand the plight of one Aron Ralston.
My story started out in my apartment, I was enjoying a late night of watching television after a hard day of work. Little did I know that the events that would soon take place, would change my life forever.
I was sitting on the couch, watching the evening news when I thought, "I could be multi-tasking right now!" There were dirty dishes in the dishwasher, they needed to be washed, but could I tackle washing both the dishes, and seeing how getting a pedicure could kill you? I knew taking on two tasks at once would be challenging, but I felt that years of television watching, and dish washing seperately had prepared me for such an event.
I prepared by first angling the television a bit, so I could see the screen from behind the kitchen sink. I rolled up my sleeves, and started to run the hot water. My heart beat raced as I looked at the pile of dirty dishes that sat before me in the sink. I poured some dish soap out over the dishes. Suds were soon appearing everywhere as the water made it's way through the empty spaces between the dishes.
I looked up at the television as I started scrubbing the plates.
Apparently you can catch bacteria from places that give pedicures... a lady from Ft. Worth, Texas apparently died from picking up some sort of bacteria while getting a pedicure.
"What is this world coming to?" I thought out loud, just then, the wet plate slipped out of my hand and fell into the sink with a thud. I thought I had broken the plate. I chastized myself for not keeping my head in the game. If I was going to successfully watch television and clean the dishes I couldn't pay more attention to one than the other. I was lucky though, the plate didn't break. I'd learned my lesson, and I was ready to take on all the other dishes.
It only took about ten minutes before I felt the worst was over. There was only a mixing bowl left, and the news was in a commercial break, the sports segment was about to be on. I felt home free. My task accomplished. I looked behind me to wipe down the counter tops, and there it was, one last dish. It was a giant butcher's knife. I'd used it the previous day to cut a pizza, as I have no pizza cutter.
"One more dish, then I'm home free." I said to myself.
I picked up the knife, and for a brief moment thought about simply tossing it into the dish washer, but then though otherwise. Now I sort of wished I'd listened to my gut, as sometimes in life, all you have are your guts and instincts to go on.
I put the knife in the dishwater and started to scrub the blade with my sponge.
The news had come back on by this point, more specifically the sports segment. The sportscaster was talking about the upcoming game between the Dallas Mavericks and the San Antonio Spurs. I was hooked, too hooked. It was while I was watching this report that the sponge sliped off the blade, and because I was scrubbing in a back and forth motion, my finger slammed straight up against the blade.
I knew something had gone terribly wrong when I felt the sharp pain shoot up my arm. I had sliced my finger open, and there was nothing I could do about it. I pulled my hadn up from the dish water and looked at my finger.
"Oh, just a small cut, nothing to be worried..." it was at that point the wound started to bleed, and bleed. I quickly turned the tap water back on and let the water rinse out the cut. I looked around for a paper towel, but there were none within sight. The blood kept pouring out of my finger... I knew I had to stop the bleeding, but I wasn't sure how. I was stuck in the kitchen with a bloody cut on my finger, and no paper towels with which I could stem the bleeding. I briskly walked to the bathroom and pulled a few squares of toilet paper off the toilet paper roll. I ran my finger under more water, then took the rubbing alchohol out of the cabinet. I gritted my teeth as I poured the rubbing alchohol over my open wound. I wrapped my finger in toilet paper, and looked for band aides, unfortunately, I would never find them. I kept my finger wrapped in toilet paper for the rest of the night, until I fell asleep.
The next morning I woke up and walked into the kitchen, the site of my horrible accident. There was a spot of dried blood on the rim of the sink. I looked at my finger, there was a bruise and a very visible cut from where the knife had sliced it open.
I wasn't going to let this ruin my life, I knew I had to keep going, I wasn't going to let this slow me down.
I went to work as usual, but I would soon find out that my ordeal from the previous night would effect me in more ways than one.
My first problem was having to write out a message to one of my co-workers. The pressure put on my finger from writing the note was intense. I nearly blacked out from the pain. Later on in the day I tried to hi-five my friend, but I pulled back when I remembered the cut on my finger. Would I ever be the same again? Even now as I type this I fear that my finger might start to bleed again.
I know that with time I'll learn to live with my cut finger. I know that some day soon I'll walk again into the kitchen and clean the dirty dishes, and maybe even watch the television while washing, and only then will I have come full circle, and I look forward to the challenge.