Note: this post contains some squeamish details. Read at your own risk. Preferably not while consuming spaghetti.
Today was progressing quite nicely. A client had just picked up an order, I had fed the kids and was going to make my own lunch and get ready for another client appointment. I picked up a baguette and our newly acquired knife. A very sharp serrated knife. It cuts through tough bread like butter. By now, you have probably surmised where this is going. Slice, slice, slice. End piece. Re-position knife carefully. Slice…not as carefully re-positioned as it should have been, it seems. The knife slipped. I missed the bread. I sliced through my thumb. In addition to blood, there was also some yellowish chicken-fat-type stuff exploding through the cut. It was at this point that I thought this was probably pretty serious. I’ve handled a lot of knives (including one just like this one) and never cut myself before. This looked like it would need stitches.
I should mention that I don’t do well with blood. I can handle injuries on the kids but I don’t do so well on myself. It’s a long story. The bottom line is I started to feel extremely light headed. Having passed out enough times to recognize it when it’s going to happen, I sat down and tried to mobilize the kids. The eldest grabbed the phone and an ice cube at my request. The youngest ran around laughing. Clearly she was missing the seriousness of the situation. While trying to stop the bleeding(Step 1), I moved on to Step 2: trying to reach my emergency contact – my husband.
After 10 minutes and numerous calls to my husband’s office and cell phone, with voicemail being the only result, I was re-thinking who I should designate as my Person to Contact In Case of Emergency. I called my mother-in-law (MIL). I calmly asked if I caught her at a bad time and as it turns out, she and my FIL were at an appointment. I asked if she could call me back, figuring my husband would retrieve the one of 50 or so voicemails I had left for him and arrive in time to prevent the children from going to the ER and seeing their mom cry while being stitched up. No such luck. En route to the hospital, I called MIL again and explained what had happened. Of course she was shocked and they rushed over to rescue us all. After a bit of time, my Person to Contact In Case of Emergency called. The conversation went something like this: Him: Hey, what’s up? You called?
Me: I’m at the hospital.
Him: What?
Me: I’ve been trying to reach you. Yada yada gotta go they’re calling my name.
My husband showed up just as the nurse was confirming who my Person to Contact in Case of Emergency is. I say it’s not the guy behind me . The guy who left his cell phone in his jacket pocket while he was enjoying a nice lunch out at a restaurant and I was bleeding all over the kitchen. Nope, not him! But of course, it is. He’s vowed never to leave his phone unattended again. But of course, he will 
My kids and husband left. My in-laws are terribly supportive in times like this. They actually hung out with me for a little while longer until I insisted they go, before traffic got bad. Even though I went through the Fast-track ER, I was still there for 3 hours. In hindsight, I figure I should have left the blood and guts hanging out so I looked like I needed more urgent care. I didn’t cry when they stitched me up. But I did scream several times (into my upper arm in an attempt to be courteous for the other patients who could hear me), when they froze my thumb with no less than 5 needle pricks. I didn’t look at the procedure as the sight of these things can be enough to make me pass out. I don’t know how many stitches I have, for those inquiring minds who want to know. The doctor was pretty compassionate and dealt with my lack of bravery quite respectfully.
Back at home I’m considering how I’m going to get the remaining order I have due this week, completed. And whether or not I will have the mobility I require to meet with the (rescheduled) client from today, and take on her business for a Sunday order.
I’m thankful I didn’t slice through any connective tissue (tendons/ligaments). I’m thankful that I didn’t do any nerve damage. I’m thankful that we have such a sharp kitchen knife and will treat it with a little more respect next time. I really don’t care for baguettes and never have.
