I’ve been terrible about cooking for my family as of late.
Ever since the great laceration debacle of 2015… wait, did I ever tell you this story?
It’s really just embarrassing.
There’s nothing exciting to tell. Alas…
So, I was cooking dinner a few weeks ago. This really fancy steak fajita meal.
I’m talking fresh salsa, and yummy Mexican rice. It was gonna be epic. Like full on, playing-Mariachi-music-to-get-me-in-the-mood epic.
The little Dudes were hanging out with me in the kitchen, regaling me with stories of their playground prowess. Dude 1 was doing homework in his room. It was a cold, but happy evening.
Halfway through the dinner prep, I was going to cut open a lime. No, not a real lime, one of those plastic bottles shaped like a lime. (Note to self: always buy fresh limes.)
I palmed it and then I took the knife and I jammed it into that bad boy as hard as possible. (I know, you see where this is going.)
Clearly, many mistakes had been made up to this point (buying fake limes, holding something while cutting it, jamming a knife into that thing as hard as my arm would allow), but the most devastating of them all was forgetting that our old, dull-as-spoons knives had recently been replaced by brand new, shiny, seriously-are-you-a-samurai? sharp knives.
Combine my big mama muscles with a samurai sharp shank and let me tell you what you get: injured.
That knife slid right through the plastic and up the other side directly across and all the way into my index finger.
OK. BLOOOD. SO. MUCH. BLOOD.
strange no pain
Pressure. Apply pressure. Immediately apply pressure. Hand towel and non-injured hand can be a tourniquet.
And don’t panic.
Because your son is doing all of the panicking on your behalf. The kind that involves screaming. And crying. And running about like an actual madman.
He may need to be slapped.
Ok, ok, no slapping. But a firm, “GET IT TOGETHER MAN!” is definitely in order.
Thankfully the little dude didn’t witness the spurting blood faucet my hand had become, nor did the basically-a-man dude. And, he gets all of the props for calmly managing the situation. He called his dad (he was working out at the gym across town), he got both of his brothers, including the freaking out one, in shoes and coats, and he helped me make it to the neighbor’s house to ask for a ride to the emergency room.
Thank goodness for awesome neighbors.
Fortunately, in a sea of dark homes, one light shone at the home of our next door neighbor. And, even more fortunate for us, they are super amazing people who kept my children while one of them drove me to the emergency room.
I babbled the entire way; talking is my coping mechanism. (Sorry Suzanne!)
But, I did NOT cry.
Not a single tear was shed from the time I sliced open my hand until I fell out of that car into the waiting arms of DudeDad. Which is an accomplishment because usually I am the first to tears. Seriously, crying right now, for no real reason.
I made up for it though.
I cried while we waited in line in triage (so much that people actually let me cut them in line). I cried while I sat in the waiting room. I cried when we unwrapped my hand and had to throw away my cute hand towel (it had a gecko on it, guys, and it was brand new). I cried when they came in to stitch me up. I kicked it up a notch when she gave me those shots right into my wound. But, I brought it right back down to standard crying level when they finished and had to give me a tetanus shot. I rounded out the evening with a good long cry with The Dudes when I finally made it home. Four hours later.
The experience was a lot of things, including one I learned so much from.
For the record…
…five stitches is a lot of stitches for a finger.
…when your index finger is immobilized, the other fingers don’t take up the slack, they become useless too and all of your bidding has to be done by your thumbs.
…thumbs are awesome. Humanity is only winning because of thumbs (we better watch our backs for the monkeys).
…knife safety is a thing. Take it seriously.
…and Tylenol 3? What even is that other than a cruel joke?!
I still can’t feel most things with that finger. It’s supposed to regain its ability to feel things in a few months. Or one day.
So, that whole long story just to explain to you why I kinda haven’t been cooking.
Until last Friday.
I figured it would be best to start with a winning dish.
Everyone was holding their breaths when I went for the knife, but it all turned out perfectly.
Need the recipe (of course you do), here you go: Sweet & Spicy Bacon Wrapped Chicken.