*If blood makes you squeamish, you may want to skip this one.
Dear Reader,
My husband and I had the privilege to fly up to New York in June to see my younger brother, Matt, graduate high school. We went up a week in advance to visit with family and friends, but when that day finally rolled around, it sure flew by! The following day, my parents hosted a small party to celebrate Matt's achievement.
The morning of the party was spent preparing last minute food items, setting the table and arranging extra seating in the living room. My mom was buzzing about from task to task, so the housewife in me was eager to help (and to prove I could actually do some of that house stuff now). She delegated me the task of preparing the veggie tray. Not a big deal, right? She had already set out everything I needed, so I set to arranging the baby carrots on the silver platter beside me. Next came the broccoli, which required a bit more prep. After cutting and rinsing the bite size pieces, I then added them alongside the carrots. So far, nothing out of the ordinary. This left the cauliflower.
I unwrapped it, then stood for a moment, puzzled. In all my life, I could not recall ever having to chop up a head of cauliflower. Did I pull all that stuff off the bottom first? I voiced my confusion to some of the people around me, sharing that I had never worked with this frustrating (though, delicious) vegetable before. They offered some tips but I do not think I made it clear just how incapable I was feeling. Alright, maybe I could figure this out. Gosh, those things are tough! The blade of the long knife I held barely made a dent. This prompted the hair brained scheme that I would make an incision along the top of the cauliflower, then pull the knife down like a lever. It sounded feasible. So, I plunged the knife into the top of the cauliflower, not realizing just how solid that thing was. The knife stopped short, but my hand kept going.
The next bit all happened so quickly. I jerked my hand away as soon as I felt the sting. Gingerly I opened my right hand; All I could see was blood pooling in the center. Frightened, I ran to find my Mom. She was horrified but immediately went into "Mom Mode". Actually, this was when I learned that she hates blood. I had never known that. With all the scrapes and cuts Matt and I had run to her with, I just thought it was nothing to her. It made me appreciate her all the more when I realized what hurdle she had to overcome to deal with such things. Especially since this was the worst one I had ever run to her with.
My hand was soon clamped around a towel, while she hunted for the right first aid supplies. It stung so badly but I needed to apply pressure. My Dad was frustrated that this happened the day of Matt's graduation party and voiced said frustration. This only served to make me cry, which alerted my Uncle and brother to the fact something was wrong. They quickly came in to investigate too. Dad did not mean to upset me, but it had been all I could do not to cry anyhow. There was then debate over whether I should go to the walk-in clinic for stitches, but it was eventually dismissed. Mom needed something for the party, so the men volunteered to go to the grocery store for her. Matt stayed with us, of course, in case any of his guests started arriving.
I started to feel a bit woozy, which worried my Mother. We figured much of this was likely do to stress but she poured me drink and set a box of cookies next to me, just in case. She was ready to send me to the walk-in clinic after all, when Dad and Uncle Mark pulled into the driveway. I had my purse over my shoulder and threw on my flip flops, but my Uncle said it would not be necessary. He handed Mom a bag which contained butterfly stitches, gauze bandages, a cloth bandage and the appropriate tape. They convinced her it was enough, so she dressed my wound, then wrapped it all up tightly. (So tightly, that later on, I actually had to have her loosen it because my fingers were going numb!)
Party over. Explanation of the bandage on my right hand told several times already. It was now Sunday morning, and time for Ray and I to depart. Carrying your heavy luggage through a crowded airport is cumbersome on most days, but it was quite another task with only one hand. Fortunately, my husband is strong and very sweet. When we landed, our sisters were there to pick us up. When I got into the car, though, I made the mistake of bracing myself with my right hand. That...hurt! I think in doing so, unless it occurred earlier, I had opened my wound up again. Fortunately, my family had sent us home with the first aid supplies.
Ray faithfully dressed my hand for me every day that week. He created a glove out of a bag for me to wear when I showered and consoled me that my cut would eventually heal. And heal it did! Where the incision was deeper, logically took longer, but my hand is now in full working order. Since it is mid-August, that is a good thing! I would be concerned otherwise. Everyone I have told says I am lucky I did not lose a digit or cause nerve damage. I do not count it as luck, though.
It was a painful ordeal but it has made me more cautious in the kitchen (and vow to only buy frozen cauliflower). I do not know exactly why it happened, if not only for that purp
ose. All I know is, God was there all along. He made sure the people around me knew how to address the issue. If my hand had not started to improve at all that first week, we were prepared to make a doctor's visit. Luck had nothing to do with it. God had everything to do with it. He is the great Healer! I am very thankful that all that is left of that wound is a faint scar. If you did not know it was there, you may not even notice. I have pictures of the progression and it is amazing to see how far it has come!
I just thought it was good to look back on this, because God heals the physical wounds but it is good to remember He also heals the emotional ones. If you, like me, are struggling with something that just seems like it will never close up and heal, let God apply his balm to it. It is tough to let Him sometimes, because it may sting...it takes some effort and care(Remember my previous entry?) to re-dress the wound. Even the tiniest paper cuts do not completely heal over night, so how can I expect a deep incision to fade away as I sleep? It is a tough reminder, but my hand is a simple illustration of just how effectively God can wipe away the pain, if you just trust and sit tight. I hope that I will keep this truth close to my heart. I hope you will too.
Sincerely, Melissa
Dear Reader,
My husband and I had the privilege to fly up to New York in June to see my younger brother, Matt, graduate high school. We went up a week in advance to visit with family and friends, but when that day finally rolled around, it sure flew by! The following day, my parents hosted a small party to celebrate Matt's achievement.
The morning of the party was spent preparing last minute food items, setting the table and arranging extra seating in the living room. My mom was buzzing about from task to task, so the housewife in me was eager to help (and to prove I could actually do some of that house stuff now). She delegated me the task of preparing the veggie tray. Not a big deal, right? She had already set out everything I needed, so I set to arranging the baby carrots on the silver platter beside me. Next came the broccoli, which required a bit more prep. After cutting and rinsing the bite size pieces, I then added them alongside the carrots. So far, nothing out of the ordinary. This left the cauliflower.
I unwrapped it, then stood for a moment, puzzled. In all my life, I could not recall ever having to chop up a head of cauliflower. Did I pull all that stuff off the bottom first? I voiced my confusion to some of the people around me, sharing that I had never worked with this frustrating (though, delicious) vegetable before. They offered some tips but I do not think I made it clear just how incapable I was feeling. Alright, maybe I could figure this out. Gosh, those things are tough! The blade of the long knife I held barely made a dent. This prompted the hair brained scheme that I would make an incision along the top of the cauliflower, then pull the knife down like a lever. It sounded feasible. So, I plunged the knife into the top of the cauliflower, not realizing just how solid that thing was. The knife stopped short, but my hand kept going.
The next bit all happened so quickly. I jerked my hand away as soon as I felt the sting. Gingerly I opened my right hand; All I could see was blood pooling in the center. Frightened, I ran to find my Mom. She was horrified but immediately went into "Mom Mode". Actually, this was when I learned that she hates blood. I had never known that. With all the scrapes and cuts Matt and I had run to her with, I just thought it was nothing to her. It made me appreciate her all the more when I realized what hurdle she had to overcome to deal with such things. Especially since this was the worst one I had ever run to her with.
My hand was soon clamped around a towel, while she hunted for the right first aid supplies. It stung so badly but I needed to apply pressure. My Dad was frustrated that this happened the day of Matt's graduation party and voiced said frustration. This only served to make me cry, which alerted my Uncle and brother to the fact something was wrong. They quickly came in to investigate too. Dad did not mean to upset me, but it had been all I could do not to cry anyhow. There was then debate over whether I should go to the walk-in clinic for stitches, but it was eventually dismissed. Mom needed something for the party, so the men volunteered to go to the grocery store for her. Matt stayed with us, of course, in case any of his guests started arriving.
I started to feel a bit woozy, which worried my Mother. We figured much of this was likely do to stress but she poured me drink and set a box of cookies next to me, just in case. She was ready to send me to the walk-in clinic after all, when Dad and Uncle Mark pulled into the driveway. I had my purse over my shoulder and threw on my flip flops, but my Uncle said it would not be necessary. He handed Mom a bag which contained butterfly stitches, gauze bandages, a cloth bandage and the appropriate tape. They convinced her it was enough, so she dressed my wound, then wrapped it all up tightly. (So tightly, that later on, I actually had to have her loosen it because my fingers were going numb!)
Party over. Explanation of the bandage on my right hand told several times already. It was now Sunday morning, and time for Ray and I to depart. Carrying your heavy luggage through a crowded airport is cumbersome on most days, but it was quite another task with only one hand. Fortunately, my husband is strong and very sweet. When we landed, our sisters were there to pick us up. When I got into the car, though, I made the mistake of bracing myself with my right hand. That...hurt! I think in doing so, unless it occurred earlier, I had opened my wound up again. Fortunately, my family had sent us home with the first aid supplies.
Ray faithfully dressed my hand for me every day that week. He created a glove out of a bag for me to wear when I showered and consoled me that my cut would eventually heal. And heal it did! Where the incision was deeper, logically took longer, but my hand is now in full working order. Since it is mid-August, that is a good thing! I would be concerned otherwise. Everyone I have told says I am lucky I did not lose a digit or cause nerve damage. I do not count it as luck, though.
It was a painful ordeal but it has made me more cautious in the kitchen (and vow to only buy frozen cauliflower). I do not know exactly why it happened, if not only for that purp
ose. All I know is, God was there all along. He made sure the people around me knew how to address the issue. If my hand had not started to improve at all that first week, we were prepared to make a doctor's visit. Luck had nothing to do with it. God had everything to do with it. He is the great Healer! I am very thankful that all that is left of that wound is a faint scar. If you did not know it was there, you may not even notice. I have pictures of the progression and it is amazing to see how far it has come!I just thought it was good to look back on this, because God heals the physical wounds but it is good to remember He also heals the emotional ones. If you, like me, are struggling with something that just seems like it will never close up and heal, let God apply his balm to it. It is tough to let Him sometimes, because it may sting...it takes some effort and care(Remember my previous entry?) to re-dress the wound. Even the tiniest paper cuts do not completely heal over night, so how can I expect a deep incision to fade away as I sleep? It is a tough reminder, but my hand is a simple illustration of just how effectively God can wipe away the pain, if you just trust and sit tight. I hope that I will keep this truth close to my heart. I hope you will too.
Sincerely, Melissa
1 comment:
Glad ur hand healed - I'm sure the cut came as another one of those "elements of surpi...."
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