One minute everything was fine and then suddenly it wasn’t. My left hand just had a meltdown. I don’t know why. I didn’t do anything to the left hand that I didn’t do to the right hand so it seems suspicious that only my left hand decided to be UN-fine.
Whatever the reasons, Leftie started to get sore last week. Knowing how important my hands are, I began massaging the fleshy part of Leftie at the base of the thumb. But that almost seemed to make matters worse. As the night wore on, the pain increased. By the time I went to bed it was bordering on intolerable.
By 2:00am, I couldn’t stand it another minute and decided that I should curse at it and then immobilize it until morning when I could figure out what the fuck was wrong with it.
But here’s an interesting fact: Of all the First Aid Kits that The Viking has strategically placed around the house….not one has a fucking Tension Bandage!
Here’s a partial list of what our First Aid Kits do contain:
- abdominal cavity wound dressings
- sucking lung injury dressings
- splints for every broken bone in the body
- enough cheap-band aides to cover a large vehicle
- grease for wheel chairs
- collapsible crutches
- fungicide
- enough gauze to make 9 mummies
- brain surgery tools
- 1,498 antiseptic wipes
- 4 tubes of Triple Antibiotic Ointment
- One large bottle of Crown Royal and 4 shot glasses
- 14 slings
- a saw to remove limbs
- two hammocks
- a portable surgery table
- a big stick with bite marks
- enough plastic gloves to supply a good sized African village
- booster cables
- an Imperial to Metric measurement conversion chart
- an Ambulance Owner’s Guide
- Candy for Diabetics with low blood sugar
- 972 surgical masks with a big, black, droopy moustache on each one
- And 2 copies of ‘How to Perform an Occipital Lobe Lobotomy for Dummies’
But no fucking Tension Bandage!
So I wrapped a sling around the thumb and hand and finished it off with cotton gauze for good measure. Then…..because it was the middle of the night and because I felt the need to point out the glaring absence of Tension Bandages to The Viking, I left the contents of two Kits spread out all over the table. Willy-Nilly.
When I wandered into the kitchen the next morning, the exploded First Aid Kits had been reassembled and were sitting neatly on the counter. I slapped both of them – with my right hand, but carefully because the last thing I needed was another fucked up hand – as I went for the coffee pot.
The Viking said, “Oh! Hey babe! Why did you wrap up your hand?”
“BECAUSE IT FUCKING HURTS!” I replied sweetly.
Trying to get dressed was ridiculous! I finally stomped shuffled out of the bedroom with my pants and underwear around my ankles, one boob in the bra and the other dangling helplessly, and my shirt scrunched around my neck. The Viking helped me pull up my pants, tucked the other boob in the bra and pulled my shirt down while I stood there scowling. I have to give him credit for not laughing, or even smiling, and he only flicked one nipple once, proving his restraint.
Then, things got strange. He came in from the garage and filled up my coffee – just the way I like it. When I came home from the bank, he trotted out to see if there was anything that needed to be taken into the house. He came in the house 4 times to help me pull up my pants after I peed. He helped make supper. He filled our water glasses when we were watching TV that evening. He brought out snacks and then put the bowls in the dishwasher.
Me: “Are you leaving me?!”
Him: “What the fuck?! No! Of course not! Why would you even ask that?!”
Me: “Are you dying?!”
Him: “NO! At least I don’t think so.”
Me: Am I dying?! Did my Doctor call and tell you I’m dying and now you are trying to make my last few hours on earth as pleasant as possible?!”
Him: “No.”
Me: “Then what the fuck are you doing?!”
Him: “What do you mean?”
Me: “You’re being all nice and doing things for me and you’ve never done that stuff before.”
Him: “Maybe I’m trying to be less of a Grumpy Asshole.”
Me: “Why? I’m accustomed to the Grumpy Asshole.”
Him: …..
Me: “Oh my gawd!! You’re coddling me!!”
Him: “I am not!”
Me: “Yes you are!”
Him: “No. I’m. Not!”
Me: “Yes you are!”
Him: “Shut up and watch the show!”
The Viking coddled me the entire weekend. Even when I said that Leftie was starting to feel better. It was wonderful and I loved it! Who wouldn’t? But, you know when something is so good that you start wondering how you got so lucky? And then you think there must be a downside? Like if chocolate were calorie free but it gave you Diarrhea?
Me: “Are you having an affair?! What’s her name?”
Him: “I’m not having an affair, for fucksakes! When would I have time?”
Me: “You went to Barney’s last night! Or maybe you didn’t go to Barney’s! Is he covering for you?!”
Him: “He’s not covering for me because I’m not having a fucking affair!
Me: “Then why are you being so damned nice?!
Him: “Maybe because I love you and I’m usually such a Grumpy Bastard but now I’m trying to be better!!”
Me: ……….
Him: ………
Me: “Well, STOP IT! YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY!!”