Barb's Burblings

The fascinating story of last

The fascinating story of last night:

The dishes were piling up in the sink (per usual) and I decided that after The West Wing I would do the dishes, then go to bed. So I watched TWW (and man, I really liked that episode), then went in to do the dishes. I put some music on. I pulled out a new, non-gross sponge. I set to work. I wash one glass. I pick up another, and while washing it, it breaks. I look down, and see blood coming from my left hand--specifically, my thumb. So I grab a paper towel and immediately apply pressure. Then I pause, and uncover the wound. And notice that dang, that's a pretty big cut. And dang, that's a lot of blood. So I grab another paper towel, and stand around, indecisively.

Finally I decide, after glancing at my thumb a few more times, that yeah, that's a bad bad cut. But I want a second opinion, so I go to Jody's room. After sort of sputtering for a minute, I show her the cut. Immediately she's like, "We're going to the emergency room. Now." We're all running around, trying to figure out where the nearest hospital is, I'm trying to call my insurance company. I finally put on some jeans (I couldn't going to the ER in my pajama bottoms), and Jody and I speed off. In the car, I start talking to a RN from the insurance company. He's asking me details about the cut to make sure that I do have to go to the ER. Stuff like, how long is it, does it look like chicken fat in the cut? I'm like, "The cut is closed. Do you want me to . . . open it?" Thank God he said no. There was much hysterical laughter and cries of, "EEEWWW!" He finally got to the point where he said, "Go to the nearest emergency facility. Now." By that point, we were practically already there.

We pull into Suburban Hospital and go to the emergency room. Which is very, very quiet. I get registered, where I realize that I have no idea what my parents' address or phone number are. Then I have to sign a form. With my bloody left hand, which has started to throb by this point (when I cut it, there was no pain). So I get my blood pressure taken and then they bring me back, where I sit in #6, on a fun bed. I wait around for a while, and a nurse comes over and looks at my wound ("Wow! You did quite a number on this!"), wanders away, comes back with a tray full of equipment. She wanders away again. A doctor comes up, introduces himself, then goes away. Finally he comes back, numbs my thumb and gets to work stitching me up. He gives me seven stitches. Then he wanders away again, saying he'll be back to put on the "final dressing."

So I sit there. And wait. A very long time. The woman with the nice husband across from me goes off for an ultrasound. A crazy woman nearby keeps calling out things like, "Hello? Hello? HELLO?" "Help me!" "Jerry? Pat?" "Why are you doing this to me?" and "Someone get me a drink!" The man next to me has abdominal pain. He slept for a while, but a doctor wakes him up for an exam. The pain is localized to one area. It's hurt for about a week. The doctor asks, "Have ever had any surgery on your stomach? Appendix out? Gall bladder?" The guy answers no. "Ever been stabbed in the stomach?" "No . . . I been stabbed. But in the back." And God, I had to stop myself from bursting out laughing.

So finally a nurse comes over to apply the "final dressing," which consists of…a Band-Aid. She gives me a sheet of instructions, tells me to keep the Band-Aid on for 2 days, and says that I need to get the stitches out in 7-10 days. Then I'm free to go. It's a little after midnight by this point. So I go to the waiting room, and there's Jody (thank you Jody!) and we head home.

And here I am. I went to bed around 1:45 (gah) so I'm pretty tired. And my thumb hurts a bit, but it's good as long as I don't bend it or put pressure on it. That was the first time I've ever had to go to a hospital. Intriguing. And dang, this is the longest blog ever. Oh well.