

...held lump of paella with one hand and pushed knife hard into it. Knife skidded off. Next thing I am clenching my hand shut and turning the air blue with cursing. Blood everywhere. Mr ratty is out so I belt next door. Refused to open my hand for fear of seeing what I'd done and losing more blood, I just had a feeling it was not good. Neighbour Jane (a veritable expert in all things medical and has cupboards full of useful medicines and serious painkillers) filled me with painkillers and wrapped my hand in clingfilm so I had a nice shiny red fist, straight from a horror movie. I spent over 4 hours in Bury st Eds casualty (where I told two morbidly curious teenage girls that it would have to be amputated) and finally got to see my wound, my best attempt at stigmata, just a bit off centre. Knife went in between my middle and ring finger kind of between the palm pads, then came out the other side between my knuckles. I gave up trying to explain my black fingers (ingrained) when I realised they were as nothing when looking at my filthy sweatshirt, filthy jeans with ripped holes exposing black knees and skanky boots with hair to match. Understandable if it had been a workshop accident but an argument with frozen paella in the kitchen? oh the shame. I was bandaged and sent home with my xrays (they had to check the chunk of steel missing from the knife tip wasn't still inside) and instructions to go to 'plastics' at Addenbrooks the following morning. I spent two days Nil By Mouth before I was finally taken down on Thursday eve, knocked out and repaired. What a stupid waste of time and now I am typing one finger and unable to work and may never get the feeling back in 2 of my fingers. I still feel lucky that I missed all the tendons but SOOOO ****** off with myself. As for the offending knife, I have decided to frame it - blood and all - and hang it on the kitchen wall as a salutary reminder. Never did find the missing piece of metal! Here's the knife to make you all squirm...I gave up trying to explain my black fingers (ingrained) when I realised they were as nothing when looking at my filthy sweatshirt, filthy jeans with ripped holes exposing black knees and skanky boots with hair to match


Phwoooaarrrr - my sort of girl.![]()


where I told two morbidly curious teenage girls that it would have to be amputated
Didn't lose your sense of humour though!
Nurse prob thought I was balmy.

What, like the South of France?
I think you're a little barmy, myself![]()



