Blame it on the hair.

Warning: if talk of blood makes you light-headed GO BACK NOW!!!

All you with strong stomachs: Welcome.

I did something today I haven't done in 15 years.  Well, 14 years and 11 months.  The last time it happened I had really long hair.  In fact, I only know 3 people who read this blog who knew me way back then.  I am convinced that the strain put on my head by my long locks must have contributed to my accident then and now.  But I digress.

Today I got 5 stitches in my left index finger for the second time in my life.  I would have had more, but they don't stitch fingernails. And, yes, typing this is harder, and more painful, than it used to be.  And, no, I have never had stitches anywhere else that I got due to an accident.  The best part is: it could have been a lot worse.  

I had just put Blanket down for a nap and I had gone to the basement to quilt.  Well, to cut fabric so that I could quilt.  Tiger was down in the basement shoeless.  B.A.R.  was assembling his stuff so that he could go to the gun range with his friend, G.T.D. (who was expected imminently).  I was cutting with my razor-sharp rotary cutter.  I had probably been cutting for 5 minutes or so when I somehow managed to run the cutter up onto the ruler and tried to take off  the right third of the tip of my left index finger.  I knew it was bad before I even put the cutter down. (No blood on the fabric, etc.)

I bolted for the stairs and Tiger followed.  I had my finger in my mouth so that I didn't bleed all over the floor and tried to explain to B.A.R. that a trip to urgent care was in order.  After 2 minutes and the use of the word, "stitches," he grabbed the baby from his nap and put both boys in the car as-is.  I managed to get a paper towel for my finger and open my own car door.  

We assumed the hurried pace we always take to the urgent care.  When we got there B.A.R. operated my door for me before the car was even off.  I somehow managed to PULL open the door to the clinic with my elbow.  At least there was no waiting for me.  Nope, he took my name and took me to an exam room.   Then he gave me a basin of water to soak? my finger in.  I dropped 4 huge drops of blood on my pants in the 1.25 seconds between pulling off the "bandage" and dropping my hand in the basin.  The finger actually bled that bad for the next hour until they got me all stitched up.

I will save you the particulars of our 75 minute visit to the urgent care.  I will say B.A.R. died a slow death while waiting for me.  He had NO CLUE what was going on, why it was taking so long, whether I still had a finger, or whether a trip to the E.R. was coming up.   When I walked out he still had to ask how the finger was cut, etc.  He really had no idea.  He did keep the boys happy in a waiting room with a fair number of toys.  He actually thought he was going to have to leave with them and come back for me because I was gone and they were running out of happy. Thankfully, they did fabulous.  

I am not supposed to be doing much of anything today.  Good thing I just got a bunch of old movies and quilting movies from the library that I was wondering when I was going to watch.  B.A.R. did go out on his shooting trip after we got back.  I am glad he was home when the accident happened.  His trips are usually 4 hours (1 hour each way and 2 hours at the range).  He is out of cell range most of that time.  I really don't know what I would have done in that case.  I probably would have called 911, because I couldn't drive, and I was bleeding like mad.