Friday, November 2, 2012

It was a bad week. Alternate Title: Maybe I need the bubble.

"How long did you have a pulse in your finger?"

"Maybe a day or so. I had to wrap it in a plastic bag for a week because it hurt when water hit it."

"I'm not too worried about the pain. When you hurt yourself as much as I do, you manage to build a really high tolerance for pain."

"How many times have you hurt yourself today?"

"Three. I can't even give you a count on the last seven days."

"You should really be more careful."

"Thanks ass hole. I never thought of that."

This is a word for word conversation I had with my coworker this week. I have really good weeks and I walk away injury free. And then I have weeks like this one. 

And for the record, day 3 on the above injury and I took a normal shower and stopped bandaging the wound. It just proves my point that either a. men are total pussies or b. I have a ridiculously high tolerance for pain. 

And the thing is that I am careful. You should see me on a step ladder...I am so terrified of falling off it I sometimes start shaking. Before I get on a step ladder I assess the situation, find places to hold on to while I am up there, back out plans if the thing breaks. I know how accident prone I am. I don't know why I am this way, but I am. I hurt myself ALL THE TIME. Constant unknown bruises. Although, I am borderline anemic, so I bruise very easily. And I never remember to take my daily vitamin.

Anyway, the point of this story. This was a REALLY bad week. It started with me somehow losing my balance and falling into the bathtub. Taking the shower curtain/rod with me. Luckily ours is not attached to the walls. That ended in several bruises on my arm, a bruise on my butt, and this doozy. I took this picture a few days post fall. 

Last Wednesday is when the above conversation took place. It started with this:

In my defense, I have been there when everyone I work with has done the exact same thing. The way a chef holds a knife/ what they are cutting is designed for this kind of injury versus cutting off a finger. Knuckles and fingers are often shaved with the sucks when you take off a giant chunk of your fingernail. Especially when said fingernail is starting to turn purple. I am REALLY hoping it doesn't fall off. 

The other two injuries were both grease related. One of them, serious. One of them not. 

I was dropping fries for our pantry guy and the fryer oil spit in just the right eye. I couldn't see at all for a good 15 minutes, then had blurry vision for about 30 minutes. I almost went to the emergency room, but after washing it out with water and my vision returning, decided against it. About five minutes later, it splattered all over my hand, causing this:

That little tiny blister on my knuckle? That is what I am talking about. The blister right below it happened a few days before. An the other two scars by my pointer finger and the base of my thumb were last week. Everyone at work is convinced I have some weird skin disorder where I blister too much. My arms and hands are like war zones.

The moral of this story is that hurting myself so much has made me super paranoid. I get that kitchens are a tad more dangerous than the average job, but I have always been like this. And now I am getting scared to take risks of any kind. It is weird. I freak out driving on the highway in the rain. I can't even imagine what this winter and driving in the snow is going to be like. Sometimes my crazy isn't funny and this is slowly becoming one of those times. Don't get me wrong, the shower incident...the boy walked in to me cracking the fuck up and lying in the bathtub. It's still kind of funny.

But, when does paranoia take over? And when is it valid? Am I going to become an agoraphobic and raise children in bubbles? (That was a terrible movie.) 

I had my first concussion at 6 months. Maybe I should just resign myself to the fact that this is what my life will be like. 90 year old woman with 12 broken hips under her belt. Awesome.

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