I start this with a big sigh. I'm rolling my eyes at myself for all the alternative titles I could've named this blog. I'll put them at the end and you can vote on them.
I'll start this the same way I started the story about Mocha getting hit by a car.
We're all ok.
And now, I will give you permission to laugh. I know I have and still am.
Five words sum up my late night and early morning.
Sat on knife in car.
That is what my dear husband wrote in the block on the form explaining why I was in the emergency room at Andrews Air Force Base at 1:30 a.m., getting stitches on my derriere.
How does one sit on a knife in a car? That is a very good question, and though I can answer it somewhat, it really is just a set up for a lifetime of jokes.
Here's what happened. My friend Mary dropped me off at my car after our cooking class last night. I was in a rush to get home because it was around 11:30 and I still needed to blog. I threw my purse and my bag containing my apron, the food we made, and oh yeah, my knives, in through the driver's seat and followed them in.
I immediately felt a little poke in my backside and realized the bag hadn't made it into the passenger seat, but was in fact still in the driver's seat. A quick check with my hand and I realized it wasn't a pen that had poked me, but something that was a bit sharper and able to draw some blood. Fortunately, Mary was waiting to make sure I got off ok, so I limped over to her car and with great embarrassment, asked her to check to see what was causing the bleeding. I'm very glad it was a deserted parking lot at that point and am hoping security footage doesn't show up on youtube any time soon!
She quickly insisted that an emergency room visit was in order, even though I was sure we could just use the first-aid kit in my glove box (we have another one in the trunk, thanks to my ever-ready-for-emergencies-husband, but the glove box was closer) to patch me up until I got home and could put a proper dressing on it. Fortunately (again) we were right across the street from the base and decided the ER there would be the best place to go.
Before we took off, I asked her to go grab my bag so I could see what the offending weapon was. There, protruding from the oh-so-protective cloth was about an inch of my recently sharpened and sanitized chef's knife. It had been in it's hardened case when I put it in the bag, but somehow-- in what I'm sure will be a delightful conversation with the manufacturer-- had popped the case open and become, well, armed.
Mary went into the ER to explain what happened, which the nurse and techs later told me could not be done with a straight face, and a crew of Airmen trying to look serious and concerned came out to the car with a wheelchair to get me. They all took very good care of me, even while every person who came in had to ask, "How did you sit on a knife?" At least I gave everyone something to laugh about amid their other, more serious cases.
I got to hear Blueberry's beautiful heartbeat for the second time in as many days (Monday was our 23-week check up) and within a few hours was cleaned up, stitched up, patched up and on my way home. Through it all, my wonderful, supportive husband just kept looking at me and shaking his head. Mary had said it could happen to anyone, but he and I both knew that this kind of thing pretty much just happens to me!
So, there's my story and I'm sticking to it. Oh! Ouch! I do have a point, though. Oh, ha ha! Butt seriously (I'm sorry, I can't stop!), I learned for myself that laughter is truly the best medicine and one that can (and should) be taken while pregnant!
Ok- here are the alternative titles I came up with. Any (PG-13 please) others?
Sat on Knife in Car
You know what's a real pain in the butt?
At least it's something to blog about, Pt 2
Friends don't let friends lacerate and drive
The end of my bikini modeling dreams