So last night, Craig went to bed early because he felt sick, and I stayed up to paint with my first burst of energy since vomitville. But first, I had to take my nightly android pill. I put water in my glass, took the pill, set down the glass, and BOOM! The glass exploded. I suppose the past 7 years of water drinking was just too much for its fragile matrix, or possibly my enormous arms (thank you, L.A. Fitness) are simply too powerful to lift small breakables. And, in breaking, it sliced open my right pinky on the inside of the middle joint. A very bloody place, as I learned. Ve-heh-heh-heh-ery bloody.
So I started bleeding. And bled, and bled, and bled. Since i've never had a cutting injury before (I was a bone breaker as a child), I couldn't remember whether I was supposed to keep it under cold water, apply pressure, stop, drop, or roll, so I just stood at the sink for 10 minutes letting freezing water wash the blood down the sink. I NEEDED THAT BLOOD! And since I was bleeding, I couldn't very well go Google "need stitches?" and get blood all over the computer and studio. So I stood at the sink until I was shivering with cold. And still bleeding.
At that point, I wrapped the wound in a pile of paper towels and headed to the computer, where I was informed that I might need stitches if:
a) the wound was jagged,
b) the wound was deep, and
c) the wound wouldn't stop bleeding.
So I was 3 for 3. Okay, fine. I then had 2 choices:
a) wake up vomity husband and cranky, sleeping child, drive to emergency room, wait 4 hours, and pay $500 to get 3 stitches, or
b) apply pressure until the stupid wound quit bleeding and go to sleep.
I went for compromise. I went upstairs, shivering and covered in cold, wet, bloody paper towels, to wake up my vomity husband and tell him that I *might* need to go to the ER. When he saw the wound, he promptly vomited. Really loudly, for a long time. Yay. Then we laughed really hard, because it was very silly, him barfing and me shivering and bleeding at midnight.
And then I was able to stick it closed with a very tight band-aid and go to sleep, waking up periodically to make sure that my pinky had not turned black and fallen off due to the tourniquet effect of the band-aid. And today, it's got that clammy "zombie skin" look about it, but overall seems to be healing effectively, although the accidental application of lemon this evening almost made me drop an F-bomb in front of my toddler in a crowded restaurant.
So, let that be a lesson to you. If you ever have what you may suspect is a horrible wound, make my husband vomit, and you'll totally be healed.*
* Note: May not work for decapitations.