Mush

This blog was meant to be a very specific short story. Once I'd finished writing it, I couldn't bring myself to publish it. I'm a wuss of a writer at the moment. Too many things going on in the background that I want to share, but just can't. And even though I can use dramatic license, there's the need for a soupçon of privacy, which I'm afraid my words would not provide no matter how much I abuse said license.

...In all honesty, this is like holding on to the juicest story in the universe. I swear if I don't tell someone I'm going to spontaneously combust. Ggaaahhhh! I need to get a grip.

Ho hum, twiddly thumb. Soooo... what shall I share with you instead? Thumb! That reminds me. I had a little accident last week. I was in the restrooms at The Zone in Rosebank, used the paper towel dispenser, and got my right thumb sliced through to the bone on one side, and all the way through the fleshy part on the other. The mall staff hadn't locked the towel dispenser and it fell and almost decapitated my thumb. I saw blood everywhere! There was a spurting fountain of it. I couldn't figure out where it'd come from, until I finally looked at my hand, then the floor, then the wall... I had to run out of the bathroom for help, leaving a trail of my DNA everywhere, then head back in to try and stem the flow while waiting for emergency services, which never arrived. I ended up wrapping my thumb in copious amounts of tissue paper, that turned red in seconds, and driving myself to the clinic in a state of shock with a bloody hand. I couldn't compress my hand and drive safely at the same time, so went with driving safely. It was not pretty.

Long story shortened, I ran from the hospital when they mentioned stitches and fled, with my bloody-wrapped hand, to a friends house who has extensive experience in such injuries. I arrived on his doorstep in a bit of a state, was given loads of TLC by his wife, and then they both put my thumb back together as best as they could. Did I mention the knight in shining armour who came speeding to my rescue? No? Well he soothed my frantic tears and made me feel a little calmer... and maybe slightly em-bare-assed.

I guess looking back at it now, it was the shock and pain, on top of not knowing the area I was in and trying to navigate my way around to find a hospital that combined together to freak me out a bit. Ok, a lot. Normally I would have called my father, but that's another story...

I sincerely hope you aren't eating anything while reading this. My thumb is on it's fourth dressing and the bone cut seems to be healing better than the one on the fleshy side. There will probably be scars, which I shall wear as badges of honour. Well, not really, but I always wanted to use that phrase.

See? I managed to distract myself and tell you a true (gross out) story without using dramatic license. Now I best go, before the feeling of spontaneous combustion sets in again.