Off and on for the past three weeks, my right hand has looked like a blue latex Smurf (right). You remember the Smurfs, blue skinned creatures of the 1980’s tv show that didn’t look nearly as good as Mystique from X-Men (left), nor look as good as the talented British actor Richard Armitage under copious blue light filters to enhance his beautiful blue eyes during his 2009 Spooks series 8 tv show days portraying Lucas North (right). Hey! You knew that I had to work RA in there somehow. Ha!
I have to say that I am so glad to be almost rid of it–the blue latex. You see, latex rubber has a different connotation for women than it does for men. *Kkhh!* (cough) And I must have been subconsciously thinking of the male definition because I started this post spelling it as laytex, but corrected myself. Giggles! No, no, I really meant the software La-TeX. Ha! Besides, I am so inexperienced in that regard–male latex usages–that I doubt they come in blue. [No pun intended.] But you never know about modern innovations. Ha! For my one act play that involved a comedic twist about laytex features, titled Handsome, I had to consult with my online gal pals and my hubby for technical information. Ha!
Anyway, latex is functional for us–women. We, the ladies, have latex in our bras and panties–and in our kitchens as gloves for those nasty household cleaning chores that we don’t want to sully our hands on–let alone, break a nail for, etc. However, I never used those rubber kitchen gloves–they seemed too industrial, and they puckered my skin from moisture because you sweat wearing them. I prefer to be au naturel in every way–washing dishes in the kitchen included. By au naturel I mean plain, simple, natural, etc. Ha!
And there are of course, rubber medical gloves made of latex. But some people are allergic to real latex rubber medical gloves, so there is blue rubber glove type called nitrile for those folks. So doctors offices tend to use the nitrile gloves as the default medical glove choice just in case. And about a dozen of the blue medical nitrile gloves (right, not my hand) are what I was sent home with almost three weeks ago. See what I mean about the Smurf comparison? The only difference is that I still have five fingers–thankfully–and Smurfs have four fingers. Ha!
What happened? It was a kitchen misadventure. My hubby had grilled out. And after cutting my meat on my plate in the kitchen–since I was going to write my stories on the computer while eating and I didn’t want a pointy sharp steak knife to balance on my plate near my precious laptop computer–I decided to wash my knife before I ate and put it away. So I picked up the dish washing brush in my right hand, dabbled some green dish soap on the brush with my left hand. So far, good.
What happened next makes my skin crawl even as I type this. Then I picked up the pointy and very sharp steak knife with my left hand and held it so that the blade was horizontal to the floor and pointed at my right hand. I should have moved my right hand holding the brush toward my left hand holding the knife–but I didn’t. And a split second slip of the knife in my left hand meant that I inadvertently plunged the point of the blade deep into the base of my third finger (the finger next to the pinky) at its crease on my right hand. @ ! & #% Etc.
Not only did it hurt like h-e-ll, but the knife had pushed so far into my finger that that knife was sticking out of me when I let go of the knife from my left hand. I then quickly pulled the knife out to survey the damage. It turns out that I had a gaping quarter inch wound that looked almost triangular–because I flinched when it happened and I managed to cut myself more. Good grief! I held my finger under the water as my blood rushed out in waves for a few minutes. I could see my reddish finger muscle or tendon clearly on view–and there was also a round yellow orange globule that I’m guessing was fat.
So we took ourselves to the open on Saturday night doc in a box convenient care clinic and they stitched me up. But here’s the thing, when I am sewing clothes or quilts, even I put more than one tiny stitch in a quarter inch seam–I usually put two or three stitches. The doctor only gave me one stitch in the middle of my triangle wound, despite a clearly gaping wound on either side of the stitch. I guess I should be glad that I held out for the lidocaine local anesthetic before he stitched me up. He wanted to stitch me up without using local anesthesia. He said making two quick holes with his stitching needle was better than him making two additional holes created by the hypodermic needle to inject the anesthestic on both sides of the wound. Yeah right. He wasn’t trying to be mean, I’ve had this doctor before for other minor scrapes, and he is very nice. But that night it seemed like the medical facility was rationing medical care supplies–only one stitch and reluctant local anesthetic. I have good insurance, I made my doctor’s visit co-pay. So what gives? Ha!
However, they gave me plenty of blue medical nitrile rubber gloves to take home to wear over my bandaged finger/hand to keep it dry from washing my hands, or getting other fluids on them–like the citric juice from the oranges I cut up to nosh on. What were you thinking that I meant? Ha!
And, I was also not supposed to use my right hand/finger too much since the wound was in the very sensitive and awkward finger base crease area on my hand. [The image at right is not my hand–I am a lady and the image is a man’s hand–and I drew a pink spot on the image where my wound was at the base of my finger, since the web’s wound pictures were so ghoulish.] But what is a writer to do if I can’t use my hand to type? My hubby offered to type for me while I dictated–very sweet, but I have seen his typing. Ha! So unfortunately, after thinking that I had healed pretty well after week one, I started to use my right hand more for typing. And you guessed it! I blew that one stitch the doctor so stingily gave me. It was inevitable, I suppose. Sighhhh!
So for the last week, I have had a slightly gaping finger wound that I kept putting antibiotic cream on and fresh bandages several times a day–the stretchy fabric bandages work best. Because after a certain point, doctors will not stitch up puncture wounds–I went back to them and asked. But slowly, my skin is healing and covering in over the wound. So, I am now in the home stretch of healing after almost three weeks–and the blue gloves are mostly off since my wound is mostly closed and I don’t need to keep it as dry. Thank goodness! I was beginning to get a little too attached to those blue gloves–feeling a bit like Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Ha!
So the moral of this story is, forget what your Mom said about not running with scissors–stay away from the pointy sharp steak knives if you want to avoid the blue nitrile rubber gloves. Or have someone else cut up your food and then wash your utensils for you. Ha!
Finally, I can’t think of needing some Richard Armitage theRApy for healing without thinking of another of his early character portrayals–Dr. Alec Track (image 1, image 2, and image 3 below) in the 2005 tv show The Golden Hour–whom I wouldn’t have minded having stitch me up, with or without the local anesthetic. Ha! Dr. TRAck has a great bed side manner. Sighhhh!