Accident prone

I’m not even sure I can write about yesterday with any level of funny just yet, but I’m dying to share my clumsy with you, so I’ll try.

Yesterday morning I was so so scared to go to the dentist. I had not been in something like 8 years because I had some *awful* experiences growing up and a particularly painful visit back in 2000. But I was determined to be brave, so after an initial visit (for which Sky had to literally push me out the door), I was scheduled for a double filling appointment. The appointment was so scary – I was all pent up and kitty breathed* the entire time. But you know what else I was? I was brave. I told myself that the whole time and then when I was done the staff told me I was brave (with my prodding) and then I called Sky who also repeated the brave assuring. I went to work with a numb mouth, unable to get on the desk for a few hours due to my inability to not only smile, but to form anything more complex than “Books? Over there. Books, yes.” with my play-doh lips.

I did get through my day (because I’m brave, remember?) and was about to crawl into bed when I remembered we had a pile of dirty dishes. I was in my pjs, but I figured I would do just a sinkful so when Sky got home late from work he wouldn’t have to do some dishes in order to cook a late dinner. So as I was washing, I magically/dumbly/unexplicably dropped a huge chef’s knife, right into my foot. Yeah, that’s right, into my foot. The funny thing is, I was in such shock that I thought to myself “Oh, it’s fine, it didn’t hurt my foot, it’s just sticking out of it. I’ll just have to pull it out and put it back safely on the counter.” Once I pulled the knife out, blood erupted all volcano style from my foot. I’m a bit sad just the cats were there to witness that part, because it must have looked pretty cinematic. I grabbed a white towel (R.I.P.) and called Sky and spent the next 20 minutes trying not to faint or look too closely at my foot. We went to the ER and they poked and prodded and xrayed me and kept me awake until 3am when I was almost reduced to little whimpers. The good news is that I narrowly missed both a really important tendon (surgery) and hitting my bone (also bad). I got stitched up, they gave me free hospital socks, and I went home in a daze.

Now I hurt. I hurt a lot, but we’ve got a wheelchair in this house (decor) so I’m wheeling around and icing and chomping on pain medications. I should be able to walk around tomorrow.

I’m more than brave, I’m like the biggest badass on my block. Local anesthetic twice in one day, and a bout of medical professionals working on me like a fine tuned mechanic’s team. I kind of wanted to save my blood soaked towel as proof of my bravery, but Sky said that was kind of gross.

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* “kitty breathed” or “kitty breathing” is a phrase coined by my friend Shelly who used it to describe moments when you are breathing like a little kitten who has worn itself out but is too spazzy to fall asleep