Yesterday I was helping Jennifer, the future sister in law, cut mat board for the genius center pieces she designed for her wedding when I lopped off the end of my finger with an X-acto knife. ”Tip” might be a better word to describe the bit of my finger that’s missing than “end.” It’s just the very, very last bit of my left index finger.
Because I often accidentally cut myself, and because I have an overt need to act like a badass all the time, I tried not to say much about it. I simply plucked the bit of skin that was left on the X-acto knife and lamented my stupidness aloud as I got myself some band-aids. It really didn’t hurt too badly. I thought it was, you know, merely a flesh wound. If you saw it yourself, you’d agree, this non-complaining response is the appropriate response relative to the nature of the wound itself. It’s not that bad.
Three hours later, I was on my way home and I noticed that my finger was tingling under the band-aid. That tingling was annoying. That tingling eventually went away.
Two hours after that, I was laying in bed, trying my hardest to go to sleep after a long day, and a long stretch of going to bed late and getting up early. I was exhausted. I wanted to sleep. There was nothing in the world I wanted more. But I couldn’t. Because my stupid finger was hurting too bad. It was throbbing. It was throbbing like Wiley E. Coyote’s hand throbs after he smashes it with his own ACME Anvil. I couldn’t believe it. As Zack crawled into the bed with me I felt ridiculous for saying it, but I had to finally tell someone. I said, “MY FINGER REALLY HURTS.” Just like that, verbal caps-lock and everything. He grunted his understanding in my direction; the grunting did not make my finger feel better. I was frantically wondering where the end of this upward spike in pain would be. At first it didn’t hurt, then it hurt a little bit, and how it hurts like the damn dickens — so what’s next? Going to the hospital because I sliced off the tip of my finger? Taking pain relieving medicines because I nicked myself with a craft supply? The pain trajectory had been backwards, so where would it stop!? CRIPPLING DEATH BY LOPPING? ONLY TIME WILL TELL.
Luckily, I was really, really tired. I fell asleep soon after that, despite the ACME throbbing and the limitless pain trajectory. I’d never been so glad for sleep deprivation. My finger feels much better this morning, thank you.
