The Finger

I wish this was some clever tale about the homeless who flipped me off for not sharing my pizza from K Dub with him. Unfortunately this is just another my wounded finger story and an observation of Portland's medical experts. As mentioned in another social network, it has taken me 24 years and a few weeks too late for me to actually listen to my parents. When my dad told me I should go to the hospital after I was attacked by my paring knife, I really should have gone. Well, I DID finally go...my finger for the most part had healed but was still swollen and incredibly painful.

After calling around, I found a pretty reliable health care facility and headed there after class, in full uniform and knives. I would have to say the highlight of the day was getting my vitals checked by the studly male nurse, who reappeared several times during my hour visit. He was also the second person to ask me if my injury was going to be on workers comp. I also found that I have lost weight since started culinary school. Now with pastry and baking, one can only hope that it stays that way. The doctor came in, asked me again if this was a work related injury, again I replied no, as I refused help at school. After several semi painful tests, she could find no reason why my finger still hurt or wouldn't bend. Her solution and I quote, "Let me go look at my anatomy book to double check that the tendons and nerves wouldn't be in that area." Seriously?

She came back with the same response and then said, "Seeing as you're a chef or on your way-this isn't a workers comp, right?-I think you're going to need your fingers. I'm recommending that you go see the hand surgeon." Seriously? Seeing as you just had to double check with your book, yeah I'll take that recommendation just to make sure and thanks for covering your ass. So, hand surgeon on Monday.

Up until today I was totally convinced that the digit was fine and that by going to the hand surgeon I was making up for not going the first time, when my parents told me to go. Today, on a extended work day, I dropped a Breville blender on my finger, not even on my hand...on the finger. It's like the equivalent to a small Le Cruset pot in weight. I watched the cut split back open and I saw the inside of my finger. Before it could start bleeding, I regressed back the test and bandaged that sucker up. Clumsy-then I ran into the giant trash dumpster in the stock room. I'm like PoHo in a china cabinet.

So, lesson learned again...Tip for the day: before a long day, eat some carbs. No one wants to hear "Granola bar? I want a cheeseburger" or suffer several accidents throughout the day due to lack of awareness.