Stu busted his finger up last night (he was catching a softball-they won), and all I can say is ew:
I know this isn’t some sort of major injury, but I have learned one thing for sure: My backup career option as a nurse is definitely OUT. He was up all night because of the pain (despite my fantastic rx cabinet, leftover drugs from delivery). Around 2am I went in to check on him. He began describing the throbbing pain and without even seeing it, I began to feel myself swoon. Luckily, I made it to the bitchen in time (the bathroom kitchen-see the remodeling blogs), but it still took a good deal of time to get any color back in my face. I am useless in an emergency. I fear this could affect my Mother of the Year and Wife of the Century titles. I talked to my doctor friends and it seems that the best solution for the pressure is still the old fashioned one- poke a hole in the fingernail and drain it. UGH!!! What are we, cavemen??? Hopefully it won’t come to that, but I won’t be able to tell you about it if it does. Because I will be somewhere far away. ewewewewewew. And this, my friends, is why he should’ve spent his Friday night with me. This wouldn’t happen over a candlelight lobster dinner, would it? I rest my case.