Sunday, Bloody (Superbowl) Sunday

I think 30 years without a broken limb or need for stitches is a pretty good run, no?  But we all know, good things do come to an end.  For me, my good luck ran out yesterday when I was preparing dinner for a wee little Superbowl gathering.

Dino isn’t much a fan for any football, let alone the Saints or the Colts, so we weren’t making a big fuss for the game.  He just invited my dad over and asked me to make meatballs–that’s really all he wanted, and he hardly makes special requests so it was my wifely duty to oblige.  I make good meatballs!  I started early so they would have a good few hours to swim in their tomato sauce bath.  After browning them in the oven first, I was just about to add them to the pot when I realized I needed one last can of tomatoes.

As I was opening the can with my new can opener (which sucks, by the way) one edge was still hanging on.  Even as I was doing this idiotic move, I thought “This is an idiotic move–you should not do this!”  Sure enough…slice.  And carnage.  Since you’re wondering–no, there was no blood or body fluids near the food, it all went down at the sink.

I knew it was a deep cut because the blood was just not stopping.  But if you know me even a little bit, you know that the hospital is my kryptonite–a visit there has a way of melting me into a quivering, blubbering little girl.  When Dino insisted, despite my protests that I’d just stick on a thick bandaid, I shivered.  I quivered and I blubbered indeed!  The injury was not my problem–it was the anticipation of going to that god forsaken place that sent me into a fit of anxiety.

But we went, and I endured.  As quietly and calmly as I could.  Even though there were people in surgical masks in the waiting room.  And a woman sitting near me with a persistent bloody nose that kept dripping into her throat and making her cough and sputter blood into a pink basin.  And an elderly fellow who either pissed or puked all over the waiting room floor–hard to identify the fluid through the blinding horror in my eyes.  It felt like an eternity, but after only an hour or so of waiting I was seen by a Physician’s Assistant.

The doc, and the nurse were so great.  They put me in my own room with a door.  I promised the nurse (who thankfully, had a great sense of humor) that I wasn’t trying to be rude or obnoxious, I was just a nervous wreck.  When the doc started to explain what he was going to do to me (inject novacaine several times directly into the wound–WHAT???!) I interjected fast and told him to spare me the details unless he had smelling salts handy.  To my surprise, I didn’t faint at all, or really even come close.  I always do!

Four little stitches, a tetanus shot and big, goofy bandage later I got to go home in time to finish cooking my meatballs and watch the game with Dino and my dad.

*By the way, the pics were taken on Dino’s blackberry.  He was considerate not to capture any of the gore, but quite inconsiderate that he actually photographed me out in public wearing that outfit!!!

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