My cats are assholes. They care more about food than about me.
Let me back up and explain.
I was sawing wood yesterday out on my balcony. All my straight-edge cuts (horizontal and vertical) went smoothly, and I decided I would try to make right angle triangles as shelf brackets for this one project.
Diagonal cuts are hard, and I didn't have a miter box. I decided against buying one the other day because I wasn't planning on diagonal cuts.
The saw slipped, and I carved out a nice two-mountains shaped skin flap on my left thumb. I instinctively stuck it in my mouth to suck up the blood while I dashed inside to run it under water.
The cats tried to trip me up, meowing like assholes, when I first came inside. Then Pumpkin meowed and impatiently reached up to beg.
"No, Punk!" I shrugged her off. She meowed again at me. FEED ME.
The thumb wouldn't stop bleeding. And it looked bad. I wasn't feeling too good as I started getting really sweaty and light-headed from the shock. "Fuck you, Punk." Then all three cats circled around me and followed me, meowing for food as I went to sit down at my computer. Yes, nearly trying to trip me over again.
I Googled two things. 1) When to go to the doctor for a cut, and 2) which urgent care was open and would close up the wound. I felt sick and woozy, but urged myself not to faint. Last time I fainted was when my husband had a huge gash on his nose and chin after a bike wreck, and I didn't want to wake up and find my thumb still bleeding and have to clean up the blood spill before going to the ER.
Pumpkin meowed and jumped up on my back and the back of my chair. "NO, dammit, Punk." Joe and Missy were hovering nearby, also begging for food.
Turns out the Walgreens clinic was the only thing open, so I grabbed my purse and headed out the door--nearly tripping on the cats again because they thought I was going to finally give them food. I felt guilty, but they'll survive. I fed them not that long ago. It's just that their dish was empty.
Walgreens wasn't accepting any new patients because it was almost closing time and they were busy. They looked at my wound. It wasn't that big. Half an inch on all sides, probably, but still bleeding. "Should I go to the ER?" I asked. They said, "You definitely should." They were so nice about it, and gave me bandaids because the paper towel I had wrapped around it was looking nasty.
I went to the ER, which was miraculously quiet last night. I was able to get in, get the tetanus shot, get numbed up, and get the wound cleaned out and stitched up. I grabbed dinner and headed home.
When I came back home about 2 hours later after I walked out the door (see, it was miraculously quiet and fast in the ER!) the cats meowed impatiently. Now are you going to feed us?
Filed under: Caturday