January 3, 1984 dawned a happy day. We had Erik and Doug visiting for the holidays and both Rebekah and Rachel, our Lamanite foster daughter, were there as well. Gordon had a swing shift out at the ATC, so it was just the kids and I for dinner.
I'd read, somewhere, that you should plan on something special for your due date since you really weren't likely to have the baby on that day. In that mindset I decided that I would make a chicken dinner. Back in those days (you know, the dark ages, 30 years ago) I always got whole fryers and cut them up myself. My Daddy had provided me with a dandy set of knives AND taught me how to keep them sharp because, "You only cut yourself with a dull knife!" (Sadly, I have proven that adage WRONG!!!!!)
I pulled that chicken out of the freezer and nuked it so that it was mostly thawed out. My philosophy when I handle raw meat is: clean the sink, deal with the meat in the sink and then clean the sink again. All went well until I was making the cut through the knee joint between the leg and the thigh. Somehow my very sharp knife slipped on the somewhat thawed chicken and cut a divot right out of my left middle finger! I flopped that hunk of finger right onto the counter just like a piece of chicken. And you know what I said?
"Ack! Why did I do that!!!"
[and I love that Harley photo-bomed my finger pix]
I could see right off that this was a major problem (ya' think?) I grabbed a dishtowel and wrapped it around my finger and applied direct pressure. Hey, I knew what to do! Then I asked Rebekah to get some ice and a little tupperware cup to put the piece of my finger in to take to the doctor. I called Kaiser to let them know I was on my way. The advice nurse assured me that I wouldn't need to bring in that tiny piece of skin so I dumped it down the newly cleaned sink! Fortunately, a friend came over to stay with my house full of kids (9, 9, 9, and 7) so I didn't have to bring them along.
I got into the examining room and the nurse there put my hand into a Betadine solution... When Dr Jones came in he rolled his eyes (wall-eyes) and asked if I had that piece of finger! I would need to take it with me to the specialist in Panorama City.
OK, so now I call home and say to Bek, "Reach in the garbage disposal and get out that piece of finger, will you?" Sadly, her little 9-year old self just couldn't bear to touch it so my friend, Ruth, reached and got it for me.
I also called Gordon at work to let him know that I would need to pick him up at work to drive me the 50 miles to Panorama City. We retrieved my missing appendage from home and went (with my labor suitcase, just in case) to see Yuseff Yuseff, who put
And you know what? That considerate little baby Spencer waited until my finger was completely healed before he made his appearance!
THREE WEEKS OVERDUE
** (Early in my pregnancy little 9-year old Rebekah had a dream that we had a little red-haired girl named Velma Candy Lewis. So I was pregnant with Velma but had Spencer! Remember these are the days before regular ultrasounds!)
No comments:
Post a Comment