My Days as a Potential Hand Model are Officially Over

(You may want to skip this one if you're squeamish.)

I always joke with my family that it would be easy to identify my body, if necessary, (I know, it's morbid) because I have so many unusual scars. In fact, for Christmas last year I even wrote them a story about how I REALLY got most of them (my years as a secret agent) and I have to say, the story is a lot more exciting than the real life explanations.

Last night I added a new one that is pretty spectacular, if I do say so myself. I took off more than half my knuckle with our cheese grater. Luckily, the chunk that did come off was big and still attached to the grater so I didn't contaminate our dinner. There is a much larger piece that almost totally encircled the missing piece that was hanging by a thread. I washed it out as well as I could, though it was kind of bloody, and carefully tucked it back into place, hoping it will somehow decide to magically re-attach itself. I then slathered it with antibiotic cream and covered it with a band aid.

And then it really started to bleed.

And bleed.

And bleed.

And it wouldn't stop. I bled straight through the band aid and four Kleenexes (are there arteries in your index fingers?). I just kept adding them on top of each other, the way you learn in first aid classes.

Anyway, it finally seemed to stop bleeding after about an hour and a half. But then Hal and I went for a walk, so I wrapped a clean Kleenex around the band aid and I kind of forgot about it. Big mistake. By the time I got home I had a fresh round of blood dripping down my finger that I hadn't even noticed until it was all over my jacket, the wall, etc.

I ended up winding four new Kleenexes around my finger and then taping it all closed with masking tape. They were already saturated with blood by the time I went to bed. I had scary dreams last night (I rarely dream) that involved our toilet overflowing and me turning off the water, but it kept overflowing anyway with dirty water and I was trying to keep my wrapped finger clean. Then water got into our bathroom wall and it exploded and gravel shot out of it all over me. Weird.

Anyway, if the semi-attached skin doesn't re-attach, this will be a deep, ugly scar. (Remember, I said chunk of missing skin. It was a very chunky chunk.) If your fingerprint were on your knuckle then I'd have no fingerprint left. As it is, I will at the very least have a smaller round crater-like scar with the littler piece that is missing. I'd post a photo here, but my family is pretty much against it. Maybe after it has healed somewhat.

Oh, and to answer the question, "Did it hurt?" Yes!!! It hurt like the devil. I told the kids that if I were still a kid, I'd be crying like a baby. But, since I've survived childbirth multiple times, I had to settle for jumping up and down and quietly saying, "Ouch, ouch ouch!" But I really did feel like crying.

So, this leads me to the title of this post. My hands were actually my favorite part of my body, even though they are starting to give away my age a bit more than I'd like. I'm kind of bummed that the scar is right there on my knuckle. Not only that, but it makes it awfully hard to do things that I take for granted with 4 bulky Kleenexes taped to my finger. (Yes, it's still bleeding.) Have you ever tried to type like that? Well believe me, it is not very efficient. I started this post at roughly 10:00 this morning.

Well, I'm off. I need to run to the store to buy some pre-shredded cheese for tonight's dinner.