Keeping You All in Stitches

I'm not going to lie. It is really hard to do everything one-handed. I'm not about talking suddenly going from being right-handed to being left-handed; I am talking about being one-handed. Because my C-3PO hand and arm are fairly useless these days. And you would be amazed at how many, many things you use both hands for, all the time.  So eating is harder, getting dressed is harder, bathing is harder, potty-breaks are a lot harder. (And, just to make things more fun, my old granny is visiting this week. Really?) Nevertheless, I feel like I have done pretty well.

Me and my twin. Too bad I couldn't have shiny, gold wrappings on my arm.

I have been doing so well that tonight I thought I could handle making a baked-potato bar (of sorts) for dinner. I washed, buttered-up, and put two nice spuds into the oven for Mom and me. I had pre-shredded cheese, pre-chopped onions, sour cream, butter, and even a can of chili with a pop-top. Things were rolling along just fine—until I got to the chili. Guess what? You need two hands to open a pop-top can. Well, maybe you actually don't... The potatoes were all baked and lovely, and I was trying to get that can opened, and it wasn't really cooperating. Just as I was going to give up and call Mom for help, the can opened—quite suddenly—and the lid opened my left ring finger. :-/

Don't worry; my arm is still attached.

I was angry, and frustrated, and sad, and feeling stupid, and bleeding like crazy. I called Mom for help. She thought I would need stitches. I kind of thought so too, but I didn't want to believe it, because I really didn't want to get stitches, and I really need the use of at least one of my hands! I called Marilyn because I knew she would come help we two car-less women, and because she has a little medical knowledge. She thought I would need stitches too.

The doctor at the Insta-Care thought so too.

And a tetanus shot, to boot. So the nurse came in and gave me my tetanus-booster in my right arm while the doctor was stitching my left hand. I don't like to watch any of this kind of stuff, so I'm sitting there wondering just where I should look. Straight up at the ceiling. Yes.

Fan-tastic!

Well, it was all over quickly; I have four stitches in my finger. I'm not supposed to let it get wet for twenty-four hours. Which is a bummer because I'd really like to bathe—or at least wash my hair tomorrow morning before I go to my follow-up appointment with Dr. Widmer. Too darn bad for me!

multiple traumas

I did manage to brush my teeth and change into my pajamas all by myself tonight—and keep my finger dry. And I'm even able to type about as well as I have been for the last few weeks. But no more of these stupid, stupid accidents! No more, please!