Sometimes I Get a Little Stabby at Christmastime

Edward Scissorhands eat your heart out. I am now Hadas Vajhand.

It started innocently enough – as all tales of self mutilation do. I was making a smoothie on Christmas Eve Eve (12/23 for those playing at home). Andrew and I agreed to get a new kitten and I was on my way to pick up my girlfriend who was going to help in the selection process mostly by making all the squees in stereo with me.

My smoothies are generally a mishmash of fruit, veg, and nuts. This day it was banana, cashews, kale, almond milk and half of an avocado. However, once I cut the avocado in half I saw it had a ginormous pit and not much avocado, so I decided to put the whole avocado in the smoothie. I was having difficulty getting the pit out so I stabbed it with my knife point instead of blade.

I am not sure how familiar you are with avocado pits; because they are shaped like an everlasting gobstopper, one might assume they’d be as firm as one. In fact, they are surprisingly soft, and with a sharp knife and an affinity for klutziness, one might pierce right through a pit and into ones own left hand in between the middle and (never again going to be a wedding) ring fingers.

I looked at what I’d done and immediately started screaming bloody murder. There wasn’t any pain, I just had never seen so deep under my skin. For those of you who don’t perform surgery or watch surgery shows, I can tell you that under our skin we humans look a lot like chicken meat. Andrew raced out of the conference call he was on to see what had caused me to howl like a Banshee. As he was approaching, in my mind, I quickly went through what I knew about shock symptoms to see if I was experiencing any of them so that I could talk Andrew through treatment if need be.

Andrew is great in a crisis (he’s had a lot of practice), but the thing is, when I injure myself (frequently) my main concern is the comfort of those around me. I don’t want to cause concern or fear. So, if shit was about to get real, I wanted everyone to be prepared.

Although the gash in my hand was about 1/4 inch deep nothing was really concerning me about the matter. I stopped screaming and asked Andrew to get some gauze and tape. As he came back from the bathroom I turned ghostly. In his hand, along with the bandaging equipment, was a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Somehow I convinced him that water would suffice to clean the wound and worst case scenario if it were to get infected I could take antibiotics or have my hand amputated but that would be much better than Napalm Peroxide.

Andrew offered me a ride to the ER which I declined because as a current unemployee I would have to go to the VA and if we’d gone there, I would miss prime kitten acquiring time and probably Christmas and would likely be there through the New Year before being seen. I opted for home remedy gauze and finger taping, finished making my smoothie – a girl’s gotta eat – and headed out the door to collect my friend.

On our ride to the humane society I told her of my morning stabbing and she convinced me to contact ZoomCare. I made an appointment for 1:45 finding it hard to explain to the person on the phone that I cut myself but not in an emo way.

We got to the humane society and found out the kittens were getting their bits surgeried and would not be available until 3. We grabbed a cup of coffee and went to ZoomCare where I proceeded to unwrap my fingers and look inside my bloody gash (and if you read this in the British way – that’s exactly what it looked like) while waiting to be seen.

My bloody gash. Or Vajhand if you prefer.

My bloody gash. Or Vajhand if you prefer.

ZoomCare lavaged, glued and taped me up gave me a tetanus shot and sent me on my way.

We headed back to the Humane Society where I almost got a full size cat instead of a kitten because he was so sweet and cute and fluffy and a little bit drooly.

Drool Cat

Drool Cat

But I instead fell in love with and got this kitten:

Meet Pixel

Meet Pixel

His name is Pixel.

We knew Lola and Widget would not really love him at first, we are hoping they will grow to love him. In the interim, we now have first hand practice in case we need to deal with one of them getting a little stabby.


One thought on “Sometimes I Get a Little Stabby at Christmastime

  1. Pingback: Snack Attack | klutz in my pants

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