For many, New Years is a time for introspection, to think about the year that’s gone by and considering what they want from the new year. Personally, I’ve never been one for New Years introspection, preferring to leave that work until my birthday. So as the days tick down on the march towards my twenty-seventh birthday, I’ve begun to think about where I am, where I’ve been and where it is that I’d like to go.
As happy as I am with my life in general right now, I will still resolve to make changes and improve the year to come. The first such resolution I’ve made is to not require immediate medical intervention in the 365 days that will follow my birthday. For most, that would be a seemingly unnecessary resolution. For me, on the other hand…
The first time this year was the result of a wonderfully festive barbecue with friends. The festivities (along with the discomfort of a surprise appearance by my partner in an awkward first date from a few nights before) gave way to foolishness once all of the women had left. Emboldened by spirits, a decision was made to commence a wrestling tournament. Landing awkwardly on my shoulder, I wound up at the Emergency Room later that night with what would turn out to be a separated shoulder.
The second event was a Christmas party at a friend’s apartment. A friend began horsing around and – pretending to punch me in the face – inadvertently aught my front tooth with his watch, chipping off the bottom and leaving me looking like a caricature of a hillbilly. An urgent trip to the dentist a few days later resolved the situation.
Which brings us to this past Friday night when a friend and I took our first cooking class. We were preparing salmon fillets on papillote, hurrying to complete the dish so that we could do another before the end of the class. Hurriedly julienning some carrots, I was embarrassed to suddenly notice that the knife had slid right through the tip of my thumb.
Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I quickly made my way to the back of the kitchen, wrapping my thumb in a handful of tissues and proceeded to clean the cutting board and knife before resuming the task at hand, with nobody in the kitchen the wiser. Every few minutes I’d disappear to the bathroom to replace the tissues with fresh ones. It was only about fifteen minutes later that Diane asked me to assist with a task that would have required two hands that I informed her that I had sliced my thumb. She would take the lead for the rest of the evening, though I continued to assist with tasks that could be completed with a single hand.
Both my friend and later the Chef (when I informed him of what had happened after the class) suggested a band-aid, though I was confident that we were well beyond the point where a band-aid would help. I’d spend three hours that night in the E.R., leaving with a Tetanus shot and a bandaged-up thumb.
I have no complaints about the care I received. I met some interesting folks in triage and was assisted by some very friendly nurses. Nevertheless, I’ll be very happy not to make a return trip for at least the next year.
