Another week in the books and that much closer to death. Death does frighten me and not for the reasons you think. It’s not the fear of the unknown, it’s the idea of being gone, forever.
I have to admit, I haven’t taken my own advice lately and I now vow to do so.
In an attempt to stave off anxiety and stress levels that could kill a horse, I consistently tell my lovely bride to not worry about things you have no control over. I’ve trained my mind to do that in most cases.
I’ve also badgered her about not dealing with some possibilities until they actually present themselves to be dealt with. In other words, “let’s not cross that bridge before we get to it.”
People, we’re not getting gout of this alive, not matter what we do. Why rush the inevitable? Deal with things as they come, one day at a time.
In some situations, those feelings of helplessness, anger, terror and loneliness can be overbearing and very hard to handle on your own. Some people can lend a shoulder and will offer it if they have the capacity to take on the extra load. I urge those in need to take advantage of those willing to carry you a bit.
I was going to get into a more in depth philosophical tirade about life and death but, I’ll reserve it for another time.
So, I’m going to talk about my efforts to avoid early retirement due to excessive weight.
I still look pregnant, however, I think I look a bit more like that final stage where I’ve given birth and I’m wrestling with contractions as my belly shrinks. Yes, my mood and short temper are on par with that level. I feel like real bitch lately, ready to cry at the drop of a dime as I mourn the loss of pizza, beer and bread!
I know, poor little Chuckie… fuck You, you do it! We’ll see how you feel fuck face!
I’ve been on the treadmill and watching what I eat. This has resulted in real weight loss. I am thankful and proud of my accomplishment.
So this morning, I was washing my breakfast dishes when I accidentally dropped the pint glass I was rinsing. I instinctively tried to catch it and that’s when shit went red. Blood red!
The instantaneous pain coupled with the copious amounts of blood convinced me that this was no scratch. I pinched the end of the middle finger of my left hand while running it under cold water trying to stop the blood. It worked while I was applying pressure but, as soon as I let off it started running like a faucet.
I wrapped my finger in paper towels and made a fist while I gathered the first aid supplies from the closet near the bathroom. I brought it all to the scene of the crime and began to administer first aid to myself.
With Tami at an interview and Alexi at school, Makena offered to help but, she seemed a little shaky so I let her off the hook. She went back to watching Shrek while I poured the hydrogen peroxide over the cut. The result? Light colored red bubbling liquid. I repeated that step a few times and then began to wrap my finger in gauze.
I was actually quite pleased with my finished product. Not bad for a one handed nurse!
To cut to the chase, WNY Immediate Care, some liquid stitches, wound dressing and one throbbing left middle finger, I’m back home and pecking away on the keyboard.
Imagine me typing with a huge bandage on my middle finger. Now imagine a monkey trained to play whack-a-mole, now give that monkey a few beers… you get the picture. BTW, I started this story at 1:45 p.m. and it’s now 3:27 p.m., Ha!
Ahhh fuck it… THE END!