I love to cook. I love to cook for my family and, my husband says, half the neighborhood given the amount I tend to make.
I cook most nights of the week, but believe me, I am good for a microwave mac and cheese and let’s be done with it type evening. I stick to really simple, easy, 5 non-crazy ingredient recipes that can be done in less than 30 minutes. So I am no Julia Child. Except the part of her that liked to drink wine. In that way I VERY MUCH am Julia Child.
It was not always this way. I had my good ole single days of ramen noodle dinners on the TV tray watching MTV’s Real World/Road Rules Challenge (dated myself, no?). But one day, home sick from work and trying to find something to watch on TV I came across Rachel Ray’s cooking show. This is before she was all “yumm-o!’ and “delish!” type annoying. What she was cooking looked really simple. A chicken and veggie “stoup”- sort of a stew, sort of a soup. Though someone should tell her that “stoup” sounds more like a foot fungus than a soup.
I decided right then and there I was going to cook. Not just ramen noodles with soy sauce fancy, but chopping stuff up and adding spices fancy.
I got myself all prepared- went shopping, got all the ingredients, made sure I had things like a pot and a spatula. I was ready. And it WAS easy. Putting some stuff into measuring cups, and pouring it in the pot. Just chopping some stuff up, putting it in the pot. Things were going well when a bit of a glitch occurred.
While chopping some herbs, I sliced my pointer finger (yes, it is important to know which finger). See, chopping herbs is kinda tricky and your fingers tend to get in the way, especially if you are chopping incorrectly, which I of course was. I wasn’t going to let that stop me though. First, I would be the only one eating this now possibly tainted soup and secondly, it was but a mere flesh wound (haha!) . So I just slapped a band-aid on my finger. Well, apparently “just” a band-aid wasn’t going to cut it (no pun intended, oh fine, yes it was). So I had to tape a paper towel to my finger and then resume chopping while holding my finger up out-of-the-way. In doing that it sort of made my other fingers, especially my ring finger, stick out a bit further.
You see what’s coming, right?
I sliced the tip of my ring finger. And I SWORE i almost chopped it all the way off but I covered it up so quickly with a paper towel that I couldn’t see how bad it was. And I was too scared to look.
I felt faint.
I needed to get some stitches.
Did I mention we were in the middle of a huge blizzard and I was living alone and drove a very un-snow friendly car? Yeah.
So I call my very reliable friend G (people who know him are now laughing and thinking this is the punch line) and ask him if he could drive me to the ER. He said sure, but that he didn’t do well with blood.
Wait, let’s back up.
Did I mention that I didn’t go to the ER immediately? Not even after a few minutes. I kept a paper towel on my severed finger and finished the soup. Listen, there was expensive chicken involved and if I didn’t finish it and get it cooked then it would go to waste and if you were not paying attention earlier I said my fancy dinners included RAMEN NOODLES which is code for I HAVE BARELY ENOUGH MONEY TO BUY FOOD. This “stoup” was getting made even if I needed a blood transfusion.
So TWO HOURS later, soup made, me with most likely a limited blood supply left, G drives me to the ER. In the middle of a now even worse blizzard. Good thing about this is that there was nobody in the waiting room so we were taken right back. I say “we” because even though G informed me he wasn’t good with blood, I was taking him with me.
Two young slightly confused nurses or very not familiar with procedures yet type resident people came in to assess the damage and ask some questions.
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Oh, about 3 hours”
“Wow, it took you that long to get here?”
“No, I had to finish cooking the soup first.”
“Um, have you been drinking?”
Clearly only a drunk idiot would wait 3 hours to take care of a severed finger.
At this point the two clearly inexperienced resident persons were arguing about who was going to do the stitching.
Resident 1- “You can do it”
Resident 2- “No, that’s okay, you can go ahead”
Resident 1- “really, you can do this one.”
G- “Do they know they are using their out loud voices?”
Me- “I am not sure. I wonder if I have any other options.”
Giggles and laughter from G and me.
Resident 2- “Have you BOTH been drinking?”
Resident 1 finally took the honors of re-attaching the tip of my finger.This was after much pleading for them to make sure my hand was extra numb because I didn’t do well with pain. And then I proceeded to watch the entire stitching. He then asked me, again, if I’d been drinking. He then also told me that this may work, but there was a chance it wouldn’t since I waited so long before coming in to get it stitched. I asked him what happens if it didn’t work.
Resident 1- “It could turn purple and fall off”
G- “You should never say something is going to turn purple and fall off with a guy in the room.”
Did I mention that G tends to get all jokey when he’s nervous and not doing well around blood?
So, finally my finger was re-attached. Which is also an exaggeration. Turns out I had to get stitches in BOTH fingers I sliced, but looking back on it I was a big candy ass and if I cut myself like that now I would just slap one of 3M’s Strawberry Shortcake band-aid’s on it and get on with things.
Ain’t nobody got time for that.
Have a great crazy day!