Lockjaw Lane, here I come
I need to learn that sometimes the road to slackerdom is paved with tetanus. This week, I ran out of dry cat food for Shrapnel, and instead of walking the five minutes (FIVE FREAKING MINUTES, people) to buy him a new bag, I dart across the street to the local liquor store for some canned food for him. No big deal, I figure - he can use the treat.
Thing is, my can opener is not long for this world. To be honest, it's been on life support for the most of the past year. I keep putting off buying a new one because clearly the $2 would break my bank. As such, I've been struggling with the rusted-out old one for far too long.
Anyways, yesterday morning, I'm running late for work...again...but I decide out of guilt to take the time to open up a can of food for the cat. (Don't judge me, he had food in his dish. It just wasn't fresh.) I start working the can opener, and working it, and working it. It keeps rolling to a halt, forcing me to have to lift it off the can and start worrying a new section of it. Meanwhile, Shrapnel's going nuts since he deduced that breakfast was coming, so he's running figure eights around my legs and meowing excitedly the whole time.
To recap: flurried woman + hungry cat + rusty can opener + sharp metal edges = you can guess what happened next.
Lamely enough, it wasn't even a deep laceration or anything sexy like gushers of blood (for that, go here http://www.missdoxie.com/archives/2005/10/honestly_the_th.html). Just a sorry little slit that wouldn't even be comparable to a paper cut. However, I did bleed a little bit, and combined with the possible rust from the can opener, I began to worry that perhaps I needed a tetanus shot.
I put that thought out of my head on the way to work, but then I made the mistake of reading up on tetanus on WebMD, every hypochondriac's favorite website. Objectively speaking, it doesn't seem like a pleasant way to go, so I decided I should call my doctor's office and get their take on the situation. In turn, they sent me to the emergency room.
Imagine how stupid I felt when there were people there taking care of real problems and I'm there with this little cut that you need a magnifying glass to see. Oh well. At least now I'm set for tetanus for the next five years and can run barefoot across rusty nails with impunity.
And apparently the symptoms for tetanus set in "within hours to days," according to the resident who cleaned my wound. So I'm on Tetanus Countdown, Day 1. I think if I can make it symptom-free until next week, I should be golden. Knock wood.
Thing is, my can opener is not long for this world. To be honest, it's been on life support for the most of the past year. I keep putting off buying a new one because clearly the $2 would break my bank. As such, I've been struggling with the rusted-out old one for far too long.
Anyways, yesterday morning, I'm running late for work...again...but I decide out of guilt to take the time to open up a can of food for the cat. (Don't judge me, he had food in his dish. It just wasn't fresh.) I start working the can opener, and working it, and working it. It keeps rolling to a halt, forcing me to have to lift it off the can and start worrying a new section of it. Meanwhile, Shrapnel's going nuts since he deduced that breakfast was coming, so he's running figure eights around my legs and meowing excitedly the whole time.
To recap: flurried woman + hungry cat + rusty can opener + sharp metal edges = you can guess what happened next.
Lamely enough, it wasn't even a deep laceration or anything sexy like gushers of blood (for that, go here http://www.missdoxie.com/archives/2005/10/honestly_the_th.html). Just a sorry little slit that wouldn't even be comparable to a paper cut. However, I did bleed a little bit, and combined with the possible rust from the can opener, I began to worry that perhaps I needed a tetanus shot.
I put that thought out of my head on the way to work, but then I made the mistake of reading up on tetanus on WebMD, every hypochondriac's favorite website. Objectively speaking, it doesn't seem like a pleasant way to go, so I decided I should call my doctor's office and get their take on the situation. In turn, they sent me to the emergency room.
Imagine how stupid I felt when there were people there taking care of real problems and I'm there with this little cut that you need a magnifying glass to see. Oh well. At least now I'm set for tetanus for the next five years and can run barefoot across rusty nails with impunity.
And apparently the symptoms for tetanus set in "within hours to days," according to the resident who cleaned my wound. So I'm on Tetanus Countdown, Day 1. I think if I can make it symptom-free until next week, I should be golden. Knock wood.
posted by Her Ladyship @ 11:38 AM
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