Ow.

Adding injury to insult, last night I cut my hand open on a can of peaches. I had been spooning some out for LS, when I dropped the can and then caught it with my right hand. The jagged top sliced a rather gaping gash just below my right pinky finger. It bled a lot. I washed it out with soap and water (ouch!) and stopped the bleeding, but then I sat there and stared at it, wondering if I needed to get stitches. I probably should have; it was open enough that I could see the fatty layer under the skin. (blech!)

My mind ran through the scenario that would unfold if I went to the ER. Me sitting there among the truly wounded, holding my boo-boo. Me getting stitches. Me being there for hours and hours just to get a few silly stitches.

So I decided to let DH decide, since he has suffered many gaping wounds in recent years as a result of his lumberjack tendencies out in our woods. He almost always says "It's fine. Let's just bandage it up." He was out picking up BS from school, and LS was happily eating his peaches in his high chair, so I decided to just wait a bit.

That's when things got a little weird. My ears went numb first, and then started ringing loudly. My lips went numb next, and my head got that odd detached feeling you get right before you're going to pass out. I realized that, crazy as it was, I was going into shock because of a stupid can of peaches. I sat down and put my head between my knees until it passed, keeping my hand elevated because it had started to ooze again.

Bizarre, right? When DH got home, I was calm again, and as I had hoped, he told me we didn't need to go to the ER. He'd had worse. ;) So we put some ointment on it and wrapped it up well. It stings and hurts a bit, but I think I'll live. I know I had a tetanus shot when LS was born, so it's all good.

The funny thing is that when it was all said and done and I was relaxing after dinner with my wounded paw tightly bandaged, I felt kind of excited about the whole "almost passing out" experience. It's good grist for my writing mill. Lately, every experience I have gets stashed in a little mental file, to be used whenever, where ever.

I wasn't going to say anything, but just FYI... I'm on page 67 of my very first attempt at a novel. I'm excited about the progress. It is definitely the longest thing I've ever written to date. It feels like a new beginning.