Seven: On Dancing

Last night was fixing to be a relatively ordinary Wednesday night. We had done our workout after work and we're planning to watch some This Is Us that we had PVR'd. The TV was set to GameTV while I prepared to cook, an episode of The Price is Right was on. Dinner was to be perogies, with sliced fried onions. I was getting my mandolin, a gift that I have made much us of since Christmas, out of its box adn setting it up on the counter when I fumbled somehow and felt the blade of it slide across my finger.

I soon saw how deep it sliced when blood came gushing out. Trying not to panic, I calmly said we were probably going to have to take me to the emergency room and get this stitched up. It was gruesome, for a sliced ring finger, with the tip flopping wildly. I pressed a spare kitchen cloth to it and applied a band aid as best I could.

In a flash, we were out the door and heading for Oakville Trafalgar hospital. Mel indicated she might go see her parents rather than wait with me, and I thought that was fine, I know she doesn't always do well in these scenarios and why put the both of us through it?

So I signed in and I waited, and I waited and waited and waited, with my right hand awkwardly gripping the cloth in silent contemplation. My phone wasn't fully charged but I provided myself leeway to read and message Mel now and again, then go back on airplane mode. She was apologetic for seeming "annoyed" but I actually thought she did quite well, keeping her cool and supporting me. I saw how few people got in and how long it was taking and I began to wonder if I should be here.

I've been to Emerg once before in my adult life, for what essentially was an anxiety attack that seized me in the middle of the night after a fight with Mel that I don't remember the cause of. We were living in Toronto at the time and I thought I might be having a heart attack or something (I was 32, but you know, I don't really keep a healthy diet.) We went to St. Mike's in the middle of the night. There weren't that many people waiting it it must have been clear my situation was not dire, so we watched the TV until we got tired and decided nothing was going to happen and left.

This time, at least, I knew there was a reason. But they must have been badly understaffed, I heard people murmuring about how it wasn't usually this bad. What a night to nearly slice my digit off. I was in the overflow waiting area, with no way to amuse myself besides my rapidly depleting phone. There was a few parents of young children there, and a twitchy guy next to me who it was clear was in some distress. I didn't speak to him but it seemed possible, from overhearing his conversation with one of the others, that he had appendicitis. That's no joke.

He had been there about an hour before me, so I started thinking seriously about where all this was going and what my needs were. My phone battery was draining. Mel had the car and the keys and not necessarily unlimited energy to stay up all night waiting. I googled some alternatives and realized they sell medical superglue that are often effective as a replacement for stitches.

Well, I thought, what did I have to lose? Except my perhaps-least used fingertip.  I had waited for over two hours by this point. I told someone who had arrived only recently -- so I knew they would be there a while -- that if they came out and called for Williams, to tell them I had gone. I had Mel come get me, and we went to the Shoppers across the street and bought some New Skin, the liquid bandage, after confirming with the pharmacist that this was what I was looking for. I would have asked for further assurance that it could help with my situation but she had other customers to attend to at this time. I did somewhat think I was playing a dangerous game, but the bleeding had stopped early into my waiting room experience and on balance this felt like the right decision, and we were more or less committed.

We got home and I set about applying my new skin to my old skin. Removing the band-aid made it clear that the bleeding was very much not stopped as a crimson river poured out of my finger. I did my best to dab it try with a paper towel and hold the errant skin in place -- or some reasonable approximation -- and I applied layer after layer of liquid bandage until I felt confident that the barrier was holding back the blood. It still looked pretty gnarly, not helped by the fact that I had trapped a lot of dried blood under my new glossy topcoat.

I ate something -- some sushi Mel had got and some soup her parents had sent along -- and we wound down and went to bed. I felt anxious about the whole thing as my mind reeled. I know to someone more experienced in these things it's probably not a big deal. Eric's cut himself numerous times as a bartender (or before that, as a hapless drinker.) But I'm really not accustomed to being injured. I had stitches one time in the first grade after gouging my eyebrow on some sharp table edge I ran into while on a field trip (the details have always been fuzzy to me -- as was likely my vision since it was before I wore glasses.) If I could have seen a medical professional to say "Here are your stitches, it'll be fine" I maybe could have gone to bed satisfied for the night. Instead I was haunted -- did I fuck up, is this thing gonna open up in the middle of the night, did I lose too much blood (considering how much bloody wrestling I've watched it's absurd I could think this, but this is my own body) am I in danger? Is my fingertip gonna look weird? Jeez. You know, people probably get worse cuts on the set of MasterChef and they keep working on their duck confit, but they have medics on standby and I had a 2 hour wait, or glue.

It was an anxious sleep, compounded by guilt that I had ruined the nice, quiet, average night. I was one careless move away from a completely anonymous TV-watching cheesy potato-eating average forgettable night on the couch. And that's how tragedy too often is: so many tragic nights were going to be a perfectly ordinary one.

Of course, this was not a tragedy, but hey, suppose my fingers hit that blade a little differently, who knows?

I woke up more or less ready to face the day, although trepidatiously confirming I still had as much finger left as when I went to bed the night before. I put a glove on -- one of those little black dollar store guys -- and did some work before deciding to go to a walk-in clinic to get looked at.

There, I went more or less right in. The doc confirmed for me that it was too late for stitches, the healing process had begun and stitches would only risk introducing a spoiler to that. He expressed some surprise that I could now buy medical glue over the counter, but assured me it would hold and was waterproof. Just wait, keep it clean, put a bandage over the glue, and watch for signs of infection. I had used an alcohol swap on the area before applying the stuff, so I think I am set. All I needed now was a tetanus shot and I'm good.

That was a relief. Look, I am not built to face mortality or my physical frailty. I had a bad run-in with the cheese grater a few weeks back that resulted in a band aid partly because the season has my skin so dry and weak. I have this weird feeling that if I get a cut, a scrape, a bruise, it's not going to heal. And to be fair, the most severe injuries I've had -- being hit by that car or having my foot run over -- took years to fully heal. So while I've got this bandage over my finger I'm gonna feel anxious about it. That's me.

I realize that this is, ultimately, an exceedingly minor event. For some people another cut wouldn't register. But you know, I live a very mundane, button-down life. I've been preparing food for myself and my wife for like 5 years and never cut myself, a pretty incredible stat when you think about it. But hey, it's bound to happen. It's amazing how it makes for an unusual, interesting post, and also an unappealing one that contrasts badly with my usual content, hemming and hawing about my future.

Anyway.

Prior to that the most interesting thing was that we went out to eat with Viki, Manders, Katie, and Viki's friend Nero on Sunday at some place way out in Mississauga. It was supposed to be brunch but it was booked too late so we had the lunch menu. Pretty much everything was disappointing, except the company, which was good. I haven't seen any of these people in person since before the pandemic, although I didn't note that. At one point, I did a very "me" thing, which was that everyone at the table was talking about Love is Blind Season 2, but Viki hadn't seen it yet, so I opted out of the conversation to have a side-convo with Viki about whatever. That's the kind of guy I am, keen to make sure everyone is looked after. Also weirdly, the way they had chosen to sit, Mel and I were separated with Viki in between, but anyway, we all had some good talks, and I see plenty of Mel at home.

The day before we had been to Nonna's. We went to church with the whole fam because Papa was getting a special mention. For that, sure I can do an hour or so of stand-sit-kneel. Then we had some dinner, some Fortino's Pizza, it was nice.

Earlier in the week, we were supposed to go to my mom's for dinner, a weeknight meal because Eric works weekends. We were keen, but Mel ended up getting stuck working later than expected. Eventually I just went by myself, sending along Mel's sincere apologies. Overall it was... I mean, aside from catching up and getting to be around my brothers again, the conversation isn't always great, usually about dead pets (same as it ever was, going back over 10 years now.) Ross got grumpy and ditched, Mel sent me home with some leftovers for Mel, I gave the guys a lift home to be nice (I know Mel wouldn't and with good reason because their place is decently far in the opposite direction of Mom's, but I didn't mind since it meant it would be more sensible to swing around to Dundas rather than the highway.) When I got home, Mel was watching Miss Congeniality 2 on TV. She wasn't feeling it and it seemed pretty dire, but we ended up finishing it.   

Other than that, you know... life is life, work is work, ups and downs, strikes and gutters. This week is time for pause because we are coming up on the 2 year anniversary of the state of emergency related to the pandemic. I have mixed feelings about that, mixed because WFH has largely been a big improvement to my lifestyle, but it's hard to beam about that without noting that, you know, it came about because of a tragedy.

I've said what I came to. Keep on rockin

-Scotto