quixotically.net

For Christmas 2006 my stocking contained a very nice, small, sharp knife. It was from a reputable brand and had a reverse curve on the blade(think talon shaped). It’s blade was about an inch and a half long by ¾ inch wide and to say it was razor sharp would be no exaggeration.

Now I have no use for knives other than utility and and aesthetic appreciation. I am not skinning any deer or protecting myself with them. Most of my knives gather dust. But I do like them. A lot. That is why I still keep them around. The utility portion of their usefulness I spoke of before would probably be better trusted to a “utility knife” (which I also received for Xmas). Exept that utility knives are never around when you need them.

Why are they never around? I would say they lack the aesthetics that are the other side of the knives coin for me. So therefor, I keep them tucked away; with other tools that are only beautiful in the raw and functional manner.

Well that was the situation on Wednesday two weeks ago. I was opening a plastic blister package that contianed my desk mount LCD monitor arm, and without thinking I violated one of the sacred rules of working with ones hands. Tis cardinal rule #3: When exerting force on a workpiece or similar, first make sure that the force is not directed and cannot be suddenly redirected toward your self in any way.

I think it is also one of those Mom rules that is much more simply phrased: “WATCH WHERE YOU POINT THAT THING! YOU’LL PUT YOUR EYE OUT!”. Ah yes, eye or whatever else is endangered. In my case it was my hand. My father always me never to cut toward myself and I never did. Toward my body, no. Toward my opposite hand, yes.

So when the plastic suddenly and surprisingly gave way during a cut, the .75″ x 1.5″ blade was slid not so gently into the meaty section of muscle closest to the thumb. It wasn’t a wide laceration but it was fairly deep. As always immediatly after an injury, I clamped onto the wound to stop bleeding, prevent contamination and, if I squeeze hard enough, maybe lose some sensation in the area.

It hurt. A lot. I didn’t want to separate my hands for fear that if I did it would fall apart or dump all of my blood out on the ground in an instant. So I looked at the knife for some indication of how severe the laceration was. I needed to gauge weather a trip to the emergency room was necessary. Based on (my) blood and oils left on the knife the wound was quarter piece of pie shaped: one strait side being the line of the surface of the skin and an inch long; the other side being the deepest point the knife cut to and also being and inch deep. Luckily McPanda was there and after I quickly checked the wound visually(really quick-like so it could only dribble about a tablespoon of almost black blood out onto my palm and wrist) he drove me to the E.R. Three hours of waiting later I am finally getting my hand sewn back together. The nurse and doctor were both very nice, reassuring and professional. Four stitches (sutures) later I am on my way.

I will write more on my recovery over the past two weeks tomorrow.