Thumbs Up…

If there’s one thing that I’ve been able to start noticing with age, is the fact that my reflexes aren’t quite as sharp as they used to be. That’s a normal thing, and we all get there eventually but it lent a particularly stinging reminder last Sunday. I’m totally on that bandwagon of trying recipes I see on Facebook. You know the ones; the short little video that shows all the ingredients belong dropped into a slow cooker or a pan, to create a wonderful and trendy meal within minutes? Love those videos…

Anyway, I saw this one video where you take three packages of ramen noodles, of all things, drop them into a slow cooker with a pound of cooked ground beef, chicken broth and veggies of your choice and slow-cook it for about two hours. It looked easy enough and I enjoy the occasional package of ramen, so I thought I’d attempt it as a way of having ready-made meals for my work week. I chose red peppers and fresh mushrooms as my veggies.

Since I’m not writing this post to brag about my culinary skills or lack thereof, you should reasonably assume that something went wrong. I was using a small cutting board and slicing up my mushrooms, when some random kids came running up my driveway. Since both my kids were inside, the movement drew my attention, both because of my hyper vigilance that I believe will never go away and my ADHD. The problem is I was in mid-slice when I turned my head. The result was a very new and very sharp chef’s knife slid across the tip of my thumb.

The sharp pain and bleeding was immediate and I dropped the knife and moved to the sink, right as the kids were ringing the doorbell. I called for my wife as blood was fountaining into the kitchen sink. She dealt with the kids, who were collecting bottles, while I applied pressure and tried to stem the bleeding. At the risk of trying to sound macho, this isn’t my first rodeo in terms of my flesh getting sliced, but despite several minutes of applied pressure, the bleeding showed no signs of stopping.

I staggered to the bathroom and opened up our home first aid kit (pictured above). Despite the cost for this thing, I was disappointed at the lack of bandages and gauze contained within. Maybe I should have looked at the included materials a bit more closely before buying it. There were only two, small gauze bandages, which I bled through and turned scarlet within seconds. After 15 minutes of consistent bleeding with no end in sight, I made my peace with the fact I would need to visit the ER…

Because I’m stubborn (and cheap), I chose not to call an ambulance and just wrapped a tight bandaid to close the wound and drove myself to the hospital. There are enough people complaining about wait times for hospital waiting rooms, so I won’t touch on that beyond saying my total time at the hospital was about four hours, which isn’t extreme in the grand scheme of things. The real comedy came during my treatment, which included the freezing of my left thumb and the application of four stitches. Hopefully no one is squeamish as I will be sharing photos…

I had the attention and care of a surgical intern as well as an attending surgeon. The surgeon asked me if I was squeamish and asked if I would be okay at the sight of my own blood. Instead of just saying yes like a normal person, I made a point of bragging that I was a retired cop and had seen it all and experienced it all and would be fine. When the surgeon explained that the two-inch needle would be inserted directly into my nerves to numb my thumb (say THAT three times fast) and that I should look away. I proceed to explain that I have been Type-1 Diabetic for over four decades and have had needles of varying sizes inserted into almost every part of my body, including my eyeballs, so just do it, already.

Entertained by my bravado, she inserted the needle and injected the numbing agent. When the needle reached the nerves in my hand, my body reacted immediately. My body flushed, my head started spinning and I was overcome with nausea. I have never dealt with something of this nature, where the reaction is completely involuntary and out of my control. I had just enough time to warn the ladies that I was going down, so the surgeon was able to retract the needle and guide my head down to the pillow. They attached a blood pressure cuff and a pulse reader to monitor my vitals, which will become integral to my story, shortly.

After a bit of time, my thumb was fully numb and the intern was able to apply four stitches to my thumb and I was no longer spilling my life’s blood all over the place. I was waiting for the surgeon to come back and inspect the intern’s work before applying a bandage and sending me on my way, when the intercom announce a “Code Blue,” which is the usual code in a hospital settings for someone needing to be resuscitated or required immediate, emergent care. Since I was in one of the main trauma rooms, half a dozen staff poured in and explained that I needed to vacate so they could bring in their emergent patient.

I immediately complied and jumped to my feet before I realized I was still hooked up to the heart monitor and blood pressure equipment, which resulted in my yanking several machines and pieces of equipment across the cot and floor. The staff were greatly amused by my clumsiness and helped untangle me, so that I could vacate the room. I now found myself standing in a random hallway with my stitched thumb held up, waiting for someone to come apply my bandage and give me a tetanus shot, which I was told I would now require.

All in all, it was the last fuckin’ thing I needed over my weekend. Granted, there’s never a good time for one to injure oneself and given the difficulties in healing wounds that Type-1 Diabetics tend to have just puts me further on edge, given that I can’t see how the healing is coming along. Granted, it’s been a few days and it’s the first morning where I don’t wake up from sharp pain. It has made me realize just how much use one gets out of one’s thumb. You never know what you have until it’s gone and my thumb is no exception. Daily tasks are far more difficult when one can’t apply pressure to one’s thumb.

The irony is that it seems pretty stupid and menial. It’s a thumb. A cut on a thumb. It wasn’t a traumatic injury, I’m not laid up for weeks and I don’t require any follow-up therapy. So it amazes me how such a small injury can be so debilitating to one’s daily routine. It also reminds me to pay fuckin’ attention to the task at hand, pun fully intended. Another few days and the bandage can be removed as the stitches will dissolve on their own. Here’s hoping there’s no further complications and I can get back to quasi-normal. ☯️