My Path Toward Self Destruction

While trying to ready my house for the Relief Society Presidency to come over for an "official" visit I was trying to quickly unload my dishwasher. I placed the basket full of utensils on the kitchen counter. For some reason, who knows why, I became very annoyed with the peach pit that had been left on the same counter. I reached over the basket, picked up the peach pit and brought my arm down on one of the extraordinarily sharp steak knives, sitting in the basket, point end up. Arrgghh! I pulled my arm off the knife, and looked down to find a gaping hole!

Now, for those of you that know me well, you will be surprised to hear that I was amazingly calm. I calmly walked to my bathroom, assessed the wound, decided that a 3cm wide by 2cm long by 3 cm deep cut was not going to close on it's own, decided the white gooey stuff at the bottom of the cut was not a great thing to see (I later learned this was the fat layer which I had cut through) and thought..."hmm, I am going to need some stitches." I then called my sister-in-law, quickly explained the situation and asked her to come and watch my children while I drove myself to Dave's office. I then hung up the phone, dressed my two children (who by some miracle didn't protest) and proceeded to curl my hair until my sister-in-law arrived.

Now many of you are thinking...this is NOT the Jenny I know. In fact, I called Dave's office to let him know that I would be coming in for stitches. When they related to him what had happened and that I would be arriving soon (keep in mind I still live a good 15 minutes from his office) he asked who was driving me knowing my to tendency to experience syncope when I see blood. (Poor guy has had to pick me off of many a floor during or shortly after blood draws.) But yes, my friends, I drove myself to the office alone. And, I must add I did a better job driving than the doofus who was in front of me with his big 1/2 ton pickup truck trying to text message on his blackberry while driving down the highway!


At this point, I am still relatively calm and remain so until my father-in-law, with whom Dave works, decided to give me something along the lines of 8 shots to numb the area. When he's finished, I look up and the nurse says, "maybe you should lay down. You're looking a little pasty." Yeah, good idea as the room starts getting black and turning in a weird way. However, being a good trooper, I remained conscious for the two stitches I got! I know, I know, such a brave girl!

So basically I am thinking this is a workman's comp. case. I probably should be on light duty and not have to do dishes for at least 7-10 days until my stitches come out. In fact, I probably should go to my mom's to be waited on. Oh, wait, she wouldn't do that. I probably should find some place else to go to be waited on. At least I should get out of cooking dinner, right?


P.S. I would have added pictures, but that would just be gross. Nobody needs to see that!

P.P.S Congrats to Joanna and Nathan on their new baby boy born last night. Obviously a much more trying and courageous ordeal than my silly two stitches!