So while unpacking the other day I unwrapped my favourite vase. It was an engagement gift to Simon and I, lo these many years ago. A fabulous perfect cylinder with etching around it. It was great for any and all varieties of flowers, just so long as they had long stems.
Very much like this, only with etched in circles around the circumference.
And last night, while giving it a ‘just unwrapped from packing’ wash, it slipped out of my hands and broke against the side of the sink. That part was bad enough. The gouge in my hand is also fairly horrific.
I was home alone with Adam and he was right there so I grabbed the nearest clean tea towel and pressed it against the wound, as blood dripped down my hand. He was totally un-phased by it all until I shouted at him to keep out of the way as I wasn’t sure if there was glass on the floor and he was in bare feet. Then he got upset because of the shouting.
Anyway, I managed to get into our first aide box and steri strip and bandage it, while comforting an hysterical toddler. Then I got Simon and the phone and suggested he get home as quick as possible and that we order pizza for dinner!
Both of those things occurred as well and once Adam was in bed we took a look at the wound. We both agreed that spending the night in A&E wasn’t necessary (thank god!) as it was barely weeping at that point.
I am about to call my GP’s office to get it looked at as the bandage has evidence of it still weeping a bit, mostly if I use it, which I am trying not to do. But it’s my right hand! How do lefties manage?!
Of course the horror of how much worse it could have been immediately floods your mind. Three inches lower and my wrist would have been cut and I would have been calling 999, dealing with a scared toddler and trying not to pass out from blood loss.
Instead I’ve sent Adam off to day care with Simon (one good part, I don’t have him to cope with today) and I’ll mostly rest today and try not to use the hand.
And try not to cry at the loss of my absolutely best and favourite vase.
Oh, poor you.
Glad it was the vase that bit the dust, and not you. There is that silver lining…
Glad you’re not seriously wounded. Bugger about the vase – skin grows back but you can never quite find one the same after so may years, can you?
I think lefties manage by practising a lot 🙂