If I'm lucky, I'll have a kick ass scar.
Today, I decided to make a big pot of chili for lunch/dinner. Its been snowing for a while, it seemed a good idea. I opened a can of tomato sauce, leaving the lid still partially attached. Emptied it into the pot, started browning the Italian sausage. I went to grab for the other can of tomato sauce and knocked the first, mostly empty one, off the counter. In my haste to grab it and thus prevent tiny spots of tomato sauce from going EVERYWHERE... I gashed my hand. I got a cut on that web of skin between the thumb and forefinger that was about an inch long, extremely deep, and bleeding a lot more than I was comfortable with. I washed it out, pressed a paper towel to it, and uttered a choice expletive. The boyfriend came out of my room and asked me if I was alright. I told him I was fine, that I just needed a band-aid. He took one look and declared I needed stitches. I told him all I needed was a band-aid. He called over Lindsay and I rolled my eyes and said, "Do we REALLY need to go through this? I just need a band-aid!" Because, really, I was NOT going to the hospital, so was the charade really necessary? My sister came and looked and, her being a former pre-med student, also declared that I needed to go see a doctor and probably get stitches. I trusted her opinion and with a sigh, got my coat.
When I finally arrived at the clinic, the nurse took a quick glance at my hand and also declared that I needed stitches. I'd never had them before and I was not psyched about this diagnosis. She said she'd bring the doctor in to take a look and get his opinion.
Long story short, I now have 4-5 stitches in my hand (I'm not really sure how many, I didn't really watch. I was too busy watching the boyfriend's face turn green as HE watched the doc stitch me up). It aches a little, I can't really open my hand very far, I certainly can't grasp anything bigger than a small cup, and there is no opening of twisty jars. I'm frustrated, but at least it was on my left hand and not my right.
When I finally arrived at the clinic, the nurse took a quick glance at my hand and also declared that I needed stitches. I'd never had them before and I was not psyched about this diagnosis. She said she'd bring the doctor in to take a look and get his opinion.
Long story short, I now have 4-5 stitches in my hand (I'm not really sure how many, I didn't really watch. I was too busy watching the boyfriend's face turn green as HE watched the doc stitch me up). It aches a little, I can't really open my hand very far, I certainly can't grasp anything bigger than a small cup, and there is no opening of twisty jars. I'm frustrated, but at least it was on my left hand and not my right.