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I knew today was going to be off when I got up. I had just woken up from a rather depressing dream, one that completely threw me off kilter. The fact that it was dreary and raining didn't help. Normally, I love the rain; today, however, it did nothing but help to dampen my mood.
I got into work and started moving some files around. Some of the files I had placed on my desk slipped onto the floor and, not really paying attention, I reached down to pick them up. Of course, I had my filing cabinet drawer open at the time, so when I reached down I rammed my left hand into the top of the side of the drawer. I didn't think anything of this at first. It hurt, yeah, but not too badly. But then I looked at my hand. Turns out that my hand hit the drawer with such force that it completely and deeply split the webbing between my index in middle fingers apart, so much so that I could see things in the cut that I really should never see. As I am certain you can imagine, this was not good.
Surprisingly enough, I took this all in stride. I cleaned the wound as best I could (it didn't start bleeding for nearly a good 30 seconds, and then started with a vengeance). After staunching the blood, I gave my doctors office a ring and was told to get my butt to the ER. After several failed attempts to call Molly, one of my coworkers gave me a lift. The comedy of errors continued at the ER. The doc confirmed that it was going to have to be stitched up. I got several shots of anesthetic, the first of which I did not feel at all which worried the doc. However, the other two made up for it in spades. My wound was thoroughly cleaned with multiple giant containers of saline, and I finally got in touch with Molly after about 25 minutes had passed (it turns out her phone decided to not work this morning until she rebooted it). The doc came in to give me stitches, and we discovered that the anesthetic had worked on my middle finger, but not on the cut. The doc asked if I wanted another dose, but by this time I just decided that I wanted the experience over with, so I opted to get my stitches without it. Despite my general hatred of needles, I watched him stitch me up with morbid curiosity. It was an interesting experience, to say the least. I was released shortly afterwards, Molly showed up 5 minutes later, and I went back to work.
One would think that dealing with all this would've brought my day down, but it didn't. It actually turned it around. Maybe it was just the absurdity of the situation, how every minor thing that could've gone wrong did. Or maybe it was my psyche using humor as a defense, as usual. Either way, my coworkers and I spent most of the day laughing about this whole thing. It helped to inject a bit of much needed humor into my day, which I'm grateful for. The fact that I've had no pain at all outside the initial cut and the stitches has helped a lot as well.
Still, I'm not sad to be shut of this day. It continues to feel off, and I'm just tired. While it was good to see how even a minor disaster can turn things around for the better, right now all I want is to snuggle up in my wife's arms and go to sleep.
At least I'm walking normally again. Huzzah!
I got into work and started moving some files around. Some of the files I had placed on my desk slipped onto the floor and, not really paying attention, I reached down to pick them up. Of course, I had my filing cabinet drawer open at the time, so when I reached down I rammed my left hand into the top of the side of the drawer. I didn't think anything of this at first. It hurt, yeah, but not too badly. But then I looked at my hand. Turns out that my hand hit the drawer with such force that it completely and deeply split the webbing between my index in middle fingers apart, so much so that I could see things in the cut that I really should never see. As I am certain you can imagine, this was not good.
Surprisingly enough, I took this all in stride. I cleaned the wound as best I could (it didn't start bleeding for nearly a good 30 seconds, and then started with a vengeance). After staunching the blood, I gave my doctors office a ring and was told to get my butt to the ER. After several failed attempts to call Molly, one of my coworkers gave me a lift. The comedy of errors continued at the ER. The doc confirmed that it was going to have to be stitched up. I got several shots of anesthetic, the first of which I did not feel at all which worried the doc. However, the other two made up for it in spades. My wound was thoroughly cleaned with multiple giant containers of saline, and I finally got in touch with Molly after about 25 minutes had passed (it turns out her phone decided to not work this morning until she rebooted it). The doc came in to give me stitches, and we discovered that the anesthetic had worked on my middle finger, but not on the cut. The doc asked if I wanted another dose, but by this time I just decided that I wanted the experience over with, so I opted to get my stitches without it. Despite my general hatred of needles, I watched him stitch me up with morbid curiosity. It was an interesting experience, to say the least. I was released shortly afterwards, Molly showed up 5 minutes later, and I went back to work.
One would think that dealing with all this would've brought my day down, but it didn't. It actually turned it around. Maybe it was just the absurdity of the situation, how every minor thing that could've gone wrong did. Or maybe it was my psyche using humor as a defense, as usual. Either way, my coworkers and I spent most of the day laughing about this whole thing. It helped to inject a bit of much needed humor into my day, which I'm grateful for. The fact that I've had no pain at all outside the initial cut and the stitches has helped a lot as well.
Still, I'm not sad to be shut of this day. It continues to feel off, and I'm just tired. While it was good to see how even a minor disaster can turn things around for the better, right now all I want is to snuggle up in my wife's arms and go to sleep.
At least I'm walking normally again. Huzzah!
