So, the latest steps in our home improvement process are almost complete. Here's a look at what we've done so far with paint, etc.
New kitchen look with "Merlot" on the east wall and "Oregon Coast" everywhere else (yes, we're considering renaming the house "Le Chateau de Paint Names We Liked.")
New dining room curtains and hardware. (The cat is Reggie. He's not new.)
New accent wall in the "dining room." We blatantly stole this look from the wall at our favorite Ames restaurant, the Cafe. We did not, however, steal the pre-chewed ottoman - Jack gave us that one for free.
As to the title of this post: on Friday afternoon I was going to finish up the painting in the kitchen while Beloved and the girls were at the gym. I got home around 4:00, started pulling the oven away from the wall so I could paint behind it, and promptly pulled the oven door off. While trying to put the door back on, one of the hinges popped out of its receptacle and closed on the end of my thumb with horrifying speed and power. The blood flow was immediate, and the amount would have been impressive if it wasn't, you know, MY OWN BLOOD. After about thirty seconds of rinsing it off in the bathroom sink, I realized this was a bit more than an owie, and I also realized the next fifteen minutes were not going to be fun because a) I was home alone with only my Volkswagen to drive to the hospital (my beloved manual transmission Volkswagen, and b) to get to the hospital, I would either have to brave the idiotic four way flashing red lights at 13th and Stange or take a chance on getting green on all the stoplights on Lincoln Way. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to deeply lacerate my non-shifting hand, so I wrapped it up in a washcloth and set off for the emergency room.
I actually got to the hospital with no problems except for cursing the stop and go traffic at 13th and Stange (apparently the alternating pattern of 4-way stops is too cognitively taxing for many Iowa drivers). Once I arrived, it was pretty obvious why I was there. The admitting nurse even looked at me and said, "Laceration?" But they made me wait while the girl in front of me got to see the doctor first. I almost wished I was bleeding more profusely just so I could get somebody to DO something about it. Finally, after triage (seriously? You couldn't ask me if I'm taking drugs while the doctor's looking at my mangled thumb?) and twenty minutes waiting in a room, I got to see the doctor.
In the end I got three stitches and a lot of laughs out of the deal. The actual medical staff were very nice and profusely apologetic about how long it took to actually get me sewed up and on my way home. Apparently 4:30 Friday afternoon is not the best time to slice your thumb in half, as they were very busy with many patients at the time. Once I figured out how to work the TV it wasn't so bad: ESPN Classic was replaying the 2007 Fiesta Bowl and I got to watch Boise State beat Oklahoma again - always a good time. I even felt good enough to drive down to Target and pick up my painkiller prescription before going home.
It was an interesting experience - I haven't been hurt bad enough for an immediate trip to the ER since I seriously sprained my ankle over ten years ago playing church league volleyball. Calling Beloved from the hospital wasn't a lot of fun, but thankfully she took it in stride, found someone to cover her shift, and came to see if I needed her to get me home or whatever. The girls understood that Daddy hurt his thumb, but the doctor was taking care of me, so there weren't any tears or anything. When I got home they didn't understand why I didn't just have a band-aid on it, but the only comment since then has been Ainsley not wanting me to touch her with my owie (frankly, I wouldn't want to be touched with it, either, as you'll see). I even managed to run the 10K I was entered in on Saturday night, and still broke 60 minutes which, considering the last two days, I thought was a victory. Today it doesn't even hurt much - I have only taken two doses of the Vicodin, and good old vitamin I has done the trick since yesterday morning.
It was the crazy start of a good weekend - more on that later. Now, if you don't really care to look at stitches, this would be a good time to head over to Facebook or something.
Okay, we good? Here's some pictures from this morning:
I like how in this last one you can really see how I split the nail pretty good. I said earlier this wouldn't be "Thumb Improvement," but I might be wrong - after all, Keanu Reeves once said "chicks dig scars." I'll have to ask Beloved about that in a few weeks.
Grace & peace,