I Got an Owie

I HATE needles. Hate, loathe, despise....ok, I'll admit it, I'm TERRIFIED of needles. I will do anything I can to avoid coming in contact with them. Unfortunately, my avoidance of needles came to an end last night when I ended up in the Immediate Care Center.

It was a normal evening, like any other. I had finished my work day and my work out and was settling in to the evening ritual at home. SmallBoy had cleaned his room, so the garbage can was overflowing with stuff from there, Girl had cleaned out the chinese food from the fridge, so that was in there, along with all of the rest of the garbage. It DESPERATELY needed to be taken outside. As I was taking the bag out of the can, it spilled all over, naturally, sending chicken fried rice to every corner of my kitchen, papers to the hidden spots one finds upon moving out..oh it was a mess. I reached under the sink and got another garbage bag and separated the trash, cleaned up the spill from the floor and called Girl to help me get all of the trash out. I offered her the choice of bags - the cheaper, generic bag that was lighter or the good Glad bag that was a bit heavier. She opted for the heavier. THANK GOD! As we were walking towards the cans outside, I felt a scrape on my thigh from the garbage, and then another, so I put the bag down to look at my leg. While I did that, I remembered that there was broken glass in that bag. I thought to myself, "Gee, I better get a better grip on this bag so that I don't drop it and send the glass shattering across my yard." Well, that was my mistake. As I hoisted the bag up, I felt an sharp pain slicing through my calf. I thought that I had scratched my leg a little deeper this time, so I stopped again to look and found myself looking at a gouge in my leg and a whole lot of blood running down my calf. I ditched the garbage and walked sort of limpy, sort of tip-toey towards the house so that I wouldn't bleed as much.

I was very good. I was a big girl and didn't cry...until I turned the shower on it. The cut was much larger and much deeper than I had originally thought and the second that the water hit it, it screamed out at me. Girl was very good. She came and took care of me and brought me the antibiotic ointment and the gauze, tape, and scissors. She brought me a glass of water to make sure that I didn't pass out or anything - which I wouldn't have, but I was getting pretty grossed out. She kept trying to convince me that I needed stitches and I kept trying to convince her that I didn't, knowing full well she was right. She won the argument and 30 minutes later I was at the Immediate Care Center looking a tray with a syringe, sutures and a bunch of other icky looking stuff. Thankfully, PC was right there holding my hand. By 9:30, my leg was all stitched up and ready to roll, and not once did I cry. I winced a bit when she poked me the first time with the needle for the lidocaine, but each successive injection hurt less and less. By the time those four or five injections were done, I felt nothing. That pleased me.

The doctor used dissolvable stitches which will take a bit longer to go away, but should leave little to no scar. For that, I am totally appreciative. I can't exercise for 10 days, which bites, but I understand why. I'll be ok. For being so brave and only whimpering once, I believe I said, "I've given birth, I can handle this", PC took me to our favorite Mexican restaurant for Fun With Cheese (Queso Fundido) and a margarita to help when the anesthetic wore off.

Thanks, Girl, for being right! Thanks, PC, my love, for holding my hand (and for the margarita!)