WE HAVE KNOWN FOR YEARS THAT BISCUITS COULD BE LETHAL. What we didn’t know is that it’s not just the flour and fat in them that causes trouble, but the serrated-edge steak knives used to pry apart Mary B.’s yummy frozen biscuits that can cause the most serious trouble.
I innocently went into the kitchen yesterday morning, ground some fragrant coffee beans, and got that delicious elixir going, then thought about how nice a biscuit and blackberry jam would be. The frozen biscuits were stuck together tight as Dick’s hatband. I bashed them on the counter. When that didn’t separate them, I pulled a steak knife from the wood block and the rest is history.
We spent most of the day at Sacred Heart Hospital’s emergency room. Luckily, no tendon damage or bone chips, just a through and through puncture near the base of my left index finger. The P.A., Angela, a former Marine and Navy medical corpsman, and the R.N., Patrick, a retired Air Force helicopter rescue pilot, took A++ care of my finger, exercising great care, skill, patience, and professional excellence. Good people.
I learned several things: Buck know a lot of things about a lot of things (like how to stop blood from pumping in a bathroom that looks like we had a visit from Norman Bates); that I actually can leave the house and go out in public without makeup or lipstick and nobody will faint or recoil in horror; and (yippee) I type pretty fast with one hand.
Thanks to good meds, I got a great night’s sleep, and looks like the worst of this experience will be a little embarrassment at flaunting the laws of basic knife safety and coming up on the losing end, and cleaning blood stains out of the carpet and the bathroom tile grout.