Thanksgiving 2008

Thursday, Nov. 27, 2008 - 12:35 a.m.

Happy Thanksgiving.

I am sitting here slowly typing my blog entry. I have adhesive bandages on two of my fingers, which were slathered with aloe vera gel before the bandages were applied. I got a very nice shot of something for pain when I was at the emergency room, and I may go have a little snort of John's brandy if I really need it.

Last night at around half past five, I was heating up some leftovers, and because one of the zip lock bags was getting so puffy, I thought I had forgotten to leave it part way open.

When I went to check and see what was causing the puffiness, I felt the lip of the bag, and that was just enough for the hot steam to shoot out and burn my pointer finger and my middle finger.

Readers, I have been in three car accidents, one of which put me in the hospital on and off for a total of two months. I have had three teeth knocked out of my head as a result of biting a dashboard. I had major abdominal surgery when I was seventeen and about two weeks after my surgery, my silly mom made me laugh at something so hard, I asked her to take me back to the hospital, which of course she didn't do. I stepped on a toothpick when I was nine and got a tetanus shot and a lecture and a commemorative photostatic copy of the bill for its removal ($57 in 1974). One of the top twenty large economy-sized human beings in Science Fiction Fandom smashed my bare toes during a dance once, and cost me two toenails. I touched a still hot curling iron to my tongue once. My little brother kicked me in the face when he was running through the house and I was laying on my back in the living room reading a book. When I was seven, I forgot where the brakes were on my new handbrake bicycle and used all ten of my toe-tops as brakes on the sidewalk when my backpedaling didn't make the bike stop. I've skinned my knees, bitten down on my tongue, fallen down smack on my elbows with a squirming guinea pig in my hands, and been hit on the ear twice by a foul softball during the course of the same game.

But nothing, and I mean NOTHING has compared to the unbelievable amounts of pain that occur when the ends of the fingers are burned.

This is a whole new category of ow. I was in so much pain that John thought I was showing symptoms of shock, hence the trip to the fixit shop.

I am blessed to have some mobility, though. I can type, if I'm careful, and thank goodness, I can work the clip on my ostomy pouch.

I cannot however, stand to touch my hair (as if to shampoo) and I sure as hell cannot hold a utensil with enough strength to secure whatever it is I'm cutting.

So because I have to skip a shower, and because I can't hold a knife and fork? John and I are staying in.

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In deference to the oogie nature of my injury this time around, and the more squeamish readers that seem to magically come out of the woodwork every time I inflict damage upon myself, I am not going to provide pictures for BlisterWatch 08 like I did for BlisterWatch 03.

There's a nice flat blister directly above the top joint of my pointer finger, right below the nail, that's about the size of a ladybug. I am under strict orders not to fuck with it, and believe me, in this instance, I will obey without question. Most of the rest of the time, I've been like Tom Sawyer, an avid fan of even my own wounds and infirmities -- but this time around, I am standing down.

One and a half square inches of skin should not be ruling my life like this, but there ya go.

I will say this, though. A person has no idea how much they *use* their booger finger until they *hurt* their booger finger.

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Upon reflection of my myriad of injuries and adventures? Today is indeed a day to give thanks.

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Happy Thanksgiving, friends. Here we all are!

And as of this writing, I'm feeling a little better.

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