A Baking Accident
Editor's Note: I feel obliged to tell you that this story, while not overly graphic, has the tendency to make people grimace and not want to hear the rest of the story. Read at your own risk.
I've often thought that I would cut myself in the kitchen. Indeed it has happened a few times, but nothing too serious. Each incident involved a knife which was being cleaned or used to cut vegetables. I've learned to hold the blade of the knife away from my hand as I wash it, and to be more cautious while cutting vegetables. But it seems that I never thought I'd injure myself while baking.
It began while attempting to open a can of sweetened condensed milk. I was halfway through making brownies of some sort. All I needed to do was heat the milk, stir in chocolate chips, and pour the mixture on top of the butter-sugar mixture and bake. For twenty minutes. And then I could go to bed. It was already a long night of baking and I was tired. But I was determined to finish my baking mission.
I retrieved what appeared to be a working can opener from the drawer. It wasn't mine, but it's presence indicated it worked. Who keeps can openers that don't work? And in that assumption I was mistaken. It did not work. At least not well. It made a small dent in the can, and managed to get a small part of it open, but overall it was useless as a can opener. I retrieved a second can opener from the drawer. This one was worse than the first. It turned the can futilely without so much as making a hole in the can. I went back to the first can opener. Eventually I was able to get the can halfway open, and make two holes on the opposite side of the can. I just needed to pull the lid back a bit so I could dump out its contents.
(Editor's note again: this is where people get squeamish. You've been warned.)
And then I made the mistake that your mother warns you about. I put my finger under the lid and attempted to force the lid up. I was successful in forcing the lid up, but my finger slipped at the sudden release of pressure, and slipped into the edge of the can, immediately slicing it.
Pure instinct took over at that moment. I rushed to the sink, turned on the water, thrust my finger under the water wincing at the pain, while simultaneously unraveling paper towels to wrap around my finger and apply pressure. It seemed that the bleeding would not stop. Everytime I released the paper towels from my finger to examine it, it would start bleeding. And so I did the most natural thing in the world. I called my sister who lives a good 8 hours away to figure out how I know I need stitches. We both Googled in our respective homes, and found a decent amount of information that let us conclude that I may or may not need stitches. But I did not want to go to the hospital. I wanted to finish baking and go to bed.
And so while holding my finger up in the air, wrapped in paper towels, I searched for band-aids. They were quite necessary for me to complete my mission of "finish the brownies and go to bed." But I could only find small band-aids, and this was a pretty decent size cut. It was a diagonal slice on the middle part of my index finger, and a normal sized band-aid would not do. So I sent my roommates out to buy band-aids, while I applied pressure, kept my finger in the air, and complained to my sister that I "just want to finish these and go to bed!"
Eventually the band-aids returned and I was able to hold my hand at a normal height. I called a friend who happens to be a doctor, and he told me that I technically have up to 24 hours to get stitches, while making it clear that it's probably safer just to go to the ER. And with those assurances, I finished the brownies and went to bed.
It's been almost 3 weeks since this incident. The brownies turned out splendidly. I got 6 stitches the next day, and am still unable to completely use my finger, although I can type pretty well with it. I threw out the deceiving can openers, and bought a new one. I used it successfully the other day to open a can of tuna. I hope to never have a baking accident again. And let this be a lesson to you to keep your fingers and other extremities away from exposed can lids.
I've often thought that I would cut myself in the kitchen. Indeed it has happened a few times, but nothing too serious. Each incident involved a knife which was being cleaned or used to cut vegetables. I've learned to hold the blade of the knife away from my hand as I wash it, and to be more cautious while cutting vegetables. But it seems that I never thought I'd injure myself while baking.
It began while attempting to open a can of sweetened condensed milk. I was halfway through making brownies of some sort. All I needed to do was heat the milk, stir in chocolate chips, and pour the mixture on top of the butter-sugar mixture and bake. For twenty minutes. And then I could go to bed. It was already a long night of baking and I was tired. But I was determined to finish my baking mission.
I retrieved what appeared to be a working can opener from the drawer. It wasn't mine, but it's presence indicated it worked. Who keeps can openers that don't work? And in that assumption I was mistaken. It did not work. At least not well. It made a small dent in the can, and managed to get a small part of it open, but overall it was useless as a can opener. I retrieved a second can opener from the drawer. This one was worse than the first. It turned the can futilely without so much as making a hole in the can. I went back to the first can opener. Eventually I was able to get the can halfway open, and make two holes on the opposite side of the can. I just needed to pull the lid back a bit so I could dump out its contents.
(Editor's note again: this is where people get squeamish. You've been warned.)
And then I made the mistake that your mother warns you about. I put my finger under the lid and attempted to force the lid up. I was successful in forcing the lid up, but my finger slipped at the sudden release of pressure, and slipped into the edge of the can, immediately slicing it.
Pure instinct took over at that moment. I rushed to the sink, turned on the water, thrust my finger under the water wincing at the pain, while simultaneously unraveling paper towels to wrap around my finger and apply pressure. It seemed that the bleeding would not stop. Everytime I released the paper towels from my finger to examine it, it would start bleeding. And so I did the most natural thing in the world. I called my sister who lives a good 8 hours away to figure out how I know I need stitches. We both Googled in our respective homes, and found a decent amount of information that let us conclude that I may or may not need stitches. But I did not want to go to the hospital. I wanted to finish baking and go to bed.
And so while holding my finger up in the air, wrapped in paper towels, I searched for band-aids. They were quite necessary for me to complete my mission of "finish the brownies and go to bed." But I could only find small band-aids, and this was a pretty decent size cut. It was a diagonal slice on the middle part of my index finger, and a normal sized band-aid would not do. So I sent my roommates out to buy band-aids, while I applied pressure, kept my finger in the air, and complained to my sister that I "just want to finish these and go to bed!"
Eventually the band-aids returned and I was able to hold my hand at a normal height. I called a friend who happens to be a doctor, and he told me that I technically have up to 24 hours to get stitches, while making it clear that it's probably safer just to go to the ER. And with those assurances, I finished the brownies and went to bed.
It's been almost 3 weeks since this incident. The brownies turned out splendidly. I got 6 stitches the next day, and am still unable to completely use my finger, although I can type pretty well with it. I threw out the deceiving can openers, and bought a new one. I used it successfully the other day to open a can of tuna. I hope to never have a baking accident again. And let this be a lesson to you to keep your fingers and other extremities away from exposed can lids.