Andi (illonadances) wrote,
Andi
illonadances

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That's something you don't feel everyday...

So, I was cutting up some lettuce. It was at the shelter. I was happy. I was so happy that I was singing, as a matter of fact, I was singing, "Santa Baby," by Eartha Kitt. I was looking down at the lettuce and for a moment at my knife as I was cutting crisp, green, lush romaine lettuce. The knife veered and then I saw that I had cut a small piece of the tip of my glove off.
Then, I realized that my thumb was hurting, and that it wasn't just the tip of the glove that had some off. I first thought, "Oh shit, the salad," and I looked down to see a fairly decent size circle (about 1/3 of a dime) of red shiny liquid welling up from between the rubber glove wrapping. There it lay between the lettuce pieces. That sucked. I was not happy to loose a part of myself. It makes my heart chakra hurt just thinking about it. I immediately threw the whole bit away. On reflection, I probably should have kept the finger bit, however, it's done now, so no worries.
I ended up having to go to Valley Med. They are fantastic! My Dr. was a Stanford graduate and has 4 kids- between 21 and 26. =) The pain was really nasty when they cleaned the wound, so they gave be a nerve block on my left thumb. That shit hurts. Seriously. I sang quietly to ease myself beforehand, then tried to go totally silent.
Yoda was wrong. I did not do. I tried. And I meant to do, but I could not resist.
I thought I was good with pain. Hah. I am a pansy. After the first ten seconds I was crying out. That sucked. I felt bad for screaming (and I bit my hand to muffle the pain), but it was really bad and it was too much for me to handle at the present without reaction. She gave me three shots of bupivacaine at various trigger points along my thumb. At one point she said, "The needle is very small. Don't look." I knew, of course, that this meant it was about the size of a turkey baster, but I obediently looked away and looked at my third eye behind closed lids and thought about the Goddess as Mary and Parvati. After it was over, I did calm myself down very quickly, which was good. Then it was time for the tech to clean my hand.
My tech's name is Eugene. He's a funny guy. He was playing the straight man to my wacky yogini from the moment I got in. He's married with kids. He's been married 15 years, and seems very happy. He likes skiing. I was hanging out next to him as he was doing paperwork as I waited to see the Dr.. He came in after the Dr. did the nerve block and took my hand. It felt really strange to have my finger up and just spurting blood in the air like that. Highly irregular. It made me feel very strange. At first I looked away, but then Eugene asked me if I wouldn't like to see the surgical proceedure, and of course, I'm not going to miss a free show and a chance to see medical science at work, so I looked over at my finger.
My finger had been spurting blood- literally spurting blood, into a small ziploc tupperware container. Then Eugene (henceforth known as TID for 'The Awesome Dude') sprayed my bloody stump with a solution that creates a layer of skin over the wound, because my type of wound is apparently very difficult to get to stop bleeding. The open hole spurted one more splash of bright red blood.... and then I saw some blood come out, and be pulled back into the finger- just like an invisible finger was staunching the bleeding. I continued to watch, fascinated.
The second pulse also held; the stream of blood began to shoot out of my finger, but was stopped perhaps 1/24th of an inch outside my vein. The third time it broke through again. The whole time, TID continued to spray my finger. I felt like I was in the wild West watching a gunfight, except Eugene was the good guy, and my wound was Black Bart- mustache and all. Eugene, TID, whatever.
He had to clean it by running gauze over it. That felt just plain wierd and was not enjoyable whatsover, but I managed to get through it by talking to Huang, who is a hip and adorable secretary who works there. She wonders if she should change her name to an English name, and I said no- that a family tradition is to be preserved, and that I think Huang is a beautiful name. It means 'perfume' in Chinese. (I don't know which dialect, though).
Then, it was all over. My hand was bandaged a'la the Mummy. My thumb is entirely closed. TID said that it may bleed through a little, and that's okay. That I should squeeze it as hard as possible. They took my information and sent me home with a prescription for painkillers.
I might actually take one.
The finger does feel burny if I allow myself to feel it. The bupivicaine is starting to wear off, and I'm not enjoying what I'm feeling. It's still better than the third week of the Bikram yoga college training, though, so I'm ridiculously happy it wasn't worse.
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