Pure Imagination

For as long as I can remember I have had an excellent imagination. This has laid the groundwork for some fun (or horrifying) fantasises. I am an expert at practicing what I will say in any given situation even if that situation never arises because I have imagined it in my head. Sometimes these are fun conversations. Sometimes they’re terrifying. I have even pretended to go to my own therapy session with an imaginary therapist. All within the comforts of my own mind.

Sometimes the imagining goes beyond conversations. Sometimes I imagine physical scenarios happening (all safely within my mind, of course). When my kids were babies I spent a lot of energy preparing for the worst: what if they stopped breathing? What if that car waiting to turn suddenly ran into us? What if that stranger on the park bench ran up and grabbed them? All sorts of cheery things.

I also have spent an inordinate amount of time imagining what I would do if I couldn’t see, or couldn’t hear, or (and this is the worst of all) lost a finger. So every time I begin to chop veggies in the kitchen, I’m first playing through the scenario of what happens if I stop paying close attention and nick myself. This happens double time when I get out my handy mandolin (not the small guitar-like instrument) to slice some carrots for freezing.

I think about this so much that I have purchased a special glove you can wear so that you CAN’T cut yourself. But nothing prepared me for the overconfidence that comes with being busy with a million things on the only Saturday you are home in October.

I have perhaps provided enough foreshadowing that you have an idea what comes next. In this story, a mom of three is busy with multiple things: cleaning a closet, laundry, freezing carrots. There’s a chance she has a touch of ADHD since not one task is completed before she begins (or completes) another, but time is precious and we love to get multiple things done in one day. She has already scrubbed the carrots. After leaving the closet (that is not yet 100% done) she sees the washed carrots and decides the time has come to slice them and blanch them for freezing. 

Does she use the safety measures available to her? Of course not. WE ARE BUSY. Does she think to herself: “Hmm…maybe this is enough of this carrot?” Yes, she does. Does she imagine this going badly? Why yes, she certainly does. Is she surprised when the mandolin cleanly removes a small portion of her right thumb as she slices through this last piece of carrot she knew she should slice but did anyway? Yes, yes she was.

And in case you didn’t gather: The She is Me. 

The shock was instant. I, fortunately, was able to grab a paper towel and apply pressure immediately. Only to remove said paper towel a minute later to “check out the damage” and become mildly shocked by the bleeding. Fortunately, my little sweethearts were home with me and were both helpful and worried about my poor finger. My eldest helped me get my non-stick bandage over it and wrap a bandaid tightly around it. I applied pressure and elevated it, and tried to not freak out.

I’m also fortunate enough to have a very good friend who is an NP in a wound clinic, so she told me to not take the bandage off until morning (which was an order I desperately needed to hear–I wanted to check it constantly to make sure the bleeding was slowing down–which usually made it start bleeding again). If you like gross things, I’ll put a day-after picture at the very bottom of this post. I did NOT finish cutting the carrots (shout out to my husband for braving the mandolin and finishing that task) but I did blanch and freeze them, and then move on to get out my music for playing at church the next day. Yes, that was as difficult as you can imagine. 

So, I have now lived through one of my near-worst nightmares. I didn’t lose the finger, (praise Jesus!) but the side tip of the thumb is incredibly important if you are a pianist, and not being able to fully play piano was very difficult for me. I have played with a band aid on my thumb for several weeks now, and with that on I can play full out, but, even now, it’s a little too sensitive to play without coverage. 

I survived one of the most horrifying things my imagination could come up with! I would not recommend this experience to anyone (definitely a 0/10), but I do know that I will never be “too busy” to NOT take safety precautions with the mandolin in the future, that is for sure. Unfortunately, the only person I have to be upset with is myself. I am not certain if my over-active imagination was a help or a hindrance in this scenario. I definitely didn’t acknowledge or listen to those fears and I probably should have! I did imagine it being mostly healed by the time I needed to play at concerts this fall, and I’m more or less there–so I guess the imagination was helpful after all!

Nearly fully healed, nearly 4 weeks later…see below for the day after carnage.

The morning after…I cringe even uploading this photo. It hurts all over again!