Most of the time, I have two relatively normal thumbs – a matching set. They work like they are supposed to work, they appear rather ordinary (except for the freakishly soft skin), and I don’t think very much about them. However, if I injure one of those thumbs – hitting it with a hammer, burning it, slicing it – I swear the wounded digit grows several inches in all directions, and I cannot seem to avoid bumping it, catching it on something, or hurting it in other ways.
My Mom supervised the cooking of Christmas dinner on Saturday – since her shoulder is still incapacitated. For the record, she is as good a supervisor as she is a cook. With the ham, she wanted to have scalloped potatoes. None of the cooks helping prepare the meal had ever fixed scalloped potatoes before (why would we when she does such a wonderful job?), so she was instructing us. Part of the secret is to have uniformly slices potatoes. To accomplish this, my Mom has a mandolin – not the homemade instrument often found in a blue grass band, but a very lethal, very sharp blade in a sort of tray. When used properly, it makes perfect potato slices for scalloped potatoes. I’m not sure what she was thinking, but Mom said to me, “I always slice the potatoes down some, and then I use the thing to protect your fingers from the blade. Just be careful.” Well, if there is a way to maim my body, I will usually find it, and Saturday was no exception. Two minutes into the slicing endeavor, I sliced my thumb. Understand that this is a really SHARP blade – and that there are probably all kinds of warnings on box (which I didn’t see). I sliced a chunk out of my thumb – although it was uniform with the potatoes. I quickly ran it under some water, grabbed a paper towel, and tried to stop the bleeding. My Dad ran and brought back all kinds of bandages, and fixed me up. Then I was officially taken off potato slicing duty. (My Dad was second choice – and wouldn’t you know it – within two minutes he sliced HIS thumb. Our family is so close – that matching father/daughter injuries happen – and this wasn’t the first time.)
Fast forward to this morning. After my shower this morning – the bandage came off. And that stupid thumb got in the way of everything. I hit it – I bumped it – and I caught the little flap of skin – so much so that I started bleeding all over again. And I had to wake Dave up to help me get a bandage back on it – because it’s on my right hand, and I can’t do anything one-handed. And now it’s throbbing – like the cartoon character who hits his thumb. Sigh.
It’s never a good idea for someone as klutzy as me to ignore warnings. I should have used the protector right from the beginning. I thought I could handle it just like Mom, but I was wrong. (She actually finished the potatoes, one-handed – with someone holding the mandolin still – and she didn’t slice any fingers, or other body parts.) But I’m good at ignoring warnings – I have ignored warnings, both general and specific, about my weight for years. Fortunately, I’m doing better now. And if I can get this thumb healed, I promise I will always use the protector – if anyone ever lets me slice anything again!
Just a side note – we went out and spent some Christmas money last night. One of the things I bought was a new suit – SIZE 18! The pants are just a little snug – although I could sit comfortably in them – so I may not wear it until I lose another five pounds or so – but man, it feels good to be down that far!
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