Tuesday, September 6, 2011


I always think it's completely extraordinary how easily we take the dexterity of our fingers for granted until one is injured, and then you're like, wait, my ring finger does how much work?

I cut my finger on Sunday night, and, long story short, it was pretty graphic. This was the second time in five years. By that I mean 2nd time wherein a significant amount of blood was involved. The first time was an incident involving a bagel and and unwieldy serrated knife. It resulted in a cut on the side of my left pointer finger that closed almost instantly (which I attribute the serrated knife) and stayed sore for forever. I will never again forget that the side of the left pointer finger is where the milk jug balances when you pour.

This time the villain was a manically sharp number my mom got me for Christmas, and involved an onion that I had inexplicably decided to wrap my fingers around to cut. The end result is a digit that may have a significantly altered fingerprint and that I feel amazingly hobbled by this minor injury. I suppose when there's major injury, there is a change in lifestyle that comes as a matter of course. This, being so minor, requires no real change, so it's constantly apparent what you can't do. Wash your hands in the carefree manner you once did. Type 's' and the letters surrounding it without a fair amount of correction. Freely apply hair product. I'm not quite at the point where I think a charity run is necessary, rather, just a moment of appreciation for the free use and movement of all ten fingers and toes.

If you've got them.


  1. Does this mean that we are knife scar buddies now? I still remember you trying to hide the look of horror after peeking at my knife wound and demanding I actually take a taxi to the nearest ER! And I insisted on going alone. Because I'm a tough New Yorker like that.

  2. Wow, this really resonates with me. Recently I sliced my thumb in the worst way. I didn't know there were better ways one could slice their thumb but there are. It was amazing to me how much it ruined my life. a) i had to put on a band-aid, which I HATE. I hate band-aids. They get in the way, they get gross, and it this cut was in a position that made it all awkward for the band-aid. I had to wear two, in fact, for it to even stay on. Oh, i could go on and on.

    So I will. Furthermore, since i hated that band-aid so much, I prematurely discarded it, disgusted, and attempted to brave the open wind. It was still a little bleedy, my hair would catch on it (GAAH--so true about hair product) and hurt like heck. In short: ruined my life. I thought it would never heal. Until one day it did. But I still harbor ill feelings toward it.