I threw both bags into the van with my left hand, and grabbed the van door handle with my right, swung it shut and didn't get my left index finger out in time (I told the doctor it was my left pointer finger. Pointer finger. Geez.)
I yanked my finger out, looked down and saw the gash - and it's incredible depth - before it started to bleed. Flipped it over and saw the laceration on the other side. Instantly freaked out. I have never cut myself really. Not like that. I had my cell phone in my hand. As the blood was dripping onto my keys and the ground, I dialed Cory. In shock, I told him that I "had a big problem" and needed him to come get me.
My in-laws (GOD BLESS THEM. Again.) were home and waiting for the kids, so Cory was able to come right up.
The strange thing was what my body did. I just went into shock, I guess. I walked back into Target. It was really busy - 5:00 on a Friday. I grabbed paper towel from the food court. (Why paper towel and not napkins? I have no idea. Not important.) Wrapped my finger up, lest it fall off. HEY! I didn't know how bad it was. Don't judge my dramatic nature!
I kept looking for a helpful face (lesson: be a helpful face.). I saw a manager I had seen earlier standing at the end of a lane. I remembered that she had a cute Target outfit. A long sleeved white dress shirt with a red vest over it. It was really cute. For a Target outfit. Anyway...I walked up, bawling, and interruped her conversation with her Team Member. "Do you think you could help me for a minute?" I asked. She kindly led me to the Team Member Service Area (I don't know if it was really called that, actually.) and made me sit down and wait for Cory. God bless him, too, he must have been there in less than five minutes.
He took me to urgent care where they stitched one laceration three times and the other one two. Xrays showed no broken bones. Evidently newer vans have some kind of gap that usually prevents breakage. The only horrible part was that RIDICULOUS novacain shot to my finger four times. Are you KIDDING me?! Mmmm...guess it's better than stitching without a numb finger. I think.
Really, it's kind of a dumb story. It could have been so much worse. And right away, as soon as Cory picked me up, I was grateful:
1. It wasn't a Rugrat's finger. I'd do that a hundred times to spare them.
2. The Rugrats weren't with me.
3. Cory was home, in-laws were home.
4. Urgent care was quiet. Everyone else was at The Cabin.
And that's it. The story of The Accident. Kind of boring, even to me.
Happy weekend. God bless you and your appendages!