The Stick and Sting of Thanksgiving

Seven years ago to the Holiday was the most memorable Thanksgiving I've ever had.

It wasn't because we set our house on fire or because Alan Rickman came to our doorstep (oh how I wish). It was because I ended up in the Emergency Room instead of stuffing my face with food.

I was lounging around downstairs, probably watching t.v. or playing my GBA SP. Out of the goodness of my awkward 12-year-old heart, I decided to go upstairs and help my parents with Thanksgiving dinner. I mean, they had been slaving in the kitchen preparing the savory feast for a few hours, and I felt like the least I could do was give a small hand (literally) to help. A wave of about 50 million smells hit me at once, making my stomach growl like a bear. Yes, a bear.

"Mom, is there anything I could help you with?"

"Oh, uh, sure. How about you open up the cranberry sauce?"

I did love me some cranberry sauce, so I lovingly obliged. My dad left the kitchen to grab something from outside, and I turned to a stack of cans containing cranberry sauce and grabbed the can opener.

{My 19-year-old self is going to interject now. Most of you know that I am left-handed, and most of you know that I really can't use a can opener because they're engineered for right-handed people. I still gripe about this, because I want a left-handed can opener. Anyways, I'll continue...}

I sank the can opener into the aluminum lid and began to rotate the handle around ineptly. I got all the way around and foolishly lifted the lid with my hand. I noticed that the lid was still attached by a stupid piece of aluminum to the body of the can. I, for some reason, thought that the whole lid had to be off the can in order for the solid jelly sauce to slide out. So without thinking, I grabbed the can lid and started to twist it around. The lid was more stubborn than I thought and wouldn't budge past a certain point. "Oh, well I'll just try twisting harder,"I thought.

That was a mistake.

The second I tried twisting the lid off really hard, my hand slipped right over the edge of the sharp can lid. I felt a stinging sensation and looked at my hand. My left thumb had been split wide open, bleeding quickly all over the cranberry sauce.

"Uhh...." I muttered as I stared at my thumb and turned around, not wanting my mom to see. First of all, I thought she would be mad that I tainted the $1.00-something can of cranberry sauce. Secondly, my mom doesn't fare well with blood at all. AT ALL. 

I stood there for a few more seconds then turned around and stated, "Uh... mom, I cut my finger" and stuck my thumb out for her to see. She immediately screamed and turned around, yelling "go get your father!" My dad walked in at that moment and asked what was wrong. I stuck my thumb up at him and didn't say anything. His response was, "oh, that needs stitches." 

My dad wrapped my bleeding digit in gauze and I followed him to the van. Since the doctor's office was closed, we had to go to the hospital. On the car ride over, I watched the gauze turn redder and redder. As we walked through the front doors of the Emergency Room, I was amazed to see the triage room full of wounded guests. We checked in at the counter and they asked me what number my pain was (pain scale). I'm pretty sure I said a 2 or something, because I wasn't really in pain, I just needed my flesh sewn together again. We sat in the bustling triage room and waited for a doctor. My dad talked to a few of the people there, and we found a guy that had sliced his entire palm open on a can of yams. A nurse also told us that a woman broke her leg going down some stairs to get mandarin oranges for her cranberry sauce. I was definitely glad that my injury wasn't as bad as theirs.

After waiting for who knows how long, I was brought into a long hall full of dozens of beds separated by curtains. I sat on my designated bed as a doctor came by and gave my thumb four numbing shots. I've had several shots in my life, and none were as painful as the shots in my thumb. The shots were given twice on the outside base of my thumb, and twice on the inside base of my thumb. Ouch.

I sat there for another 45 minutes staring at my open wound, waiting for the doctor to come again. He finally came and pulled out a super thin (and super sharp) U-shaped needle. He plunged the needle into my thumb and made me realize that all the numbing solution had most definitely worn off.

"Ouch!"

"Can you feel that?"

"Uh, yes."

That's when the doctor gave me about 13 more shots in my thumb. I watched all them, fascinated and freaked out at the same time. The first few shots were awful, but after that, I couldn't feel the stick and sting of the needle anymore. The doctor sewed my finger shut one stitch at a time. After he was finished, he wrapped up my finger in a load of gauze and wished me a happy Thanksgiving.

The car ride home was one where I nearly exploded for hunger. I got home to my siblings (who looked like devil creatures for lack of food) and mom waiting at the dinner table for us to eat. I had delayed dinner by about 4 hours, and we were all ready to overindulge ourselves in turkey, stuffing, potatoes and pie.

And that, folks, is the most memorable Thanksgiving I've had... so far.

Happy Thanksgiving!