I’m a klutz. Certified, tried and true — I am reliably injuring myself in some emergency room-worthy way at least once a year. Someday, if you should hear I have tragically died, be sure to get the story because it’s bound to be something dumb like me running into a doorway or something silly like that (of course, I hope that doesn’t happen, but let’s just say if it did, I wouldn’t be surprised).
So today, in an effort to take an epic photo of the baby in a pumpkin (thank you, Pinterest, for raising the standard so high that this was my #1 priority today), I sliced my left index finger nice and deep. [sidenote: I’m currently marveling at my ability to type with 9 fingers… outstanding!] I realized a few things over the past few hours that seem blog-worthy:
- Being a mom has made me way less of a wimp than I used to be. Having been a life-long klutz, this is not the first time I’ve sliced my finger with a knife. Every other time something like this has happened, I have been a hysterical mess. The reality is, it’s usually not the pain that sends me into hysterics, it’s the shock of seeing my body opened up and bleeding. When I was 19, I got stitches for a similar cut and cried for nearly a day over the ordeal. This time, however, I haven’t shed a tear and handled it like a pro – a big step for me. This calm rationale has swept over me telling me, “The body heals. You’ve been through way worse than this and have come out just fine. It looks bad now, but this is the worst it will be.” I guess after healing from childbirth, a cut just seems like no big deal. Cool.
- I probably need stitches, but I’m not getting them. For me to go to the ER and get stitches will mean at minimum a couple hundred bucks, and that’s with our terrible private insurance. So, I went to the CVS on the corner and bought some butterfly closures and first aid tape, cleaned the wound and closed it up. I chose to avoid the hospital in order to save the money. In this case, probably not a big deal – if the wound doesn’t start looking better in a couple of days, I’ll go to the doctor… but I think decisions like this are the motivation behind healthcare reform, but on a much bigger level. When someone like me, who could probably find the money to pay the outrageous bill for a few stitches, chooses to avoid seeking medical care because of an exorbitant expense, this is the system failing. Why should stitches cost hundreds of dollars to get? Why should health care ever be cost-prohibitive? Doesn’t that seem evil and wrong? Shouldn’t we place such a high value on human life that health care is something we just get as citizens? If a privatized system is resulting in people choosing less-than-adequate healthcare in order to avoid financial collapse, we have a big problem. (For more of my thoughts on this, read my post about my friend Ron).
Anyway, I hope that when the baby wakes from her nap I can ultimately get that epic pumpkin photo, but for now I feel tough and a little bit angry.
EDIT: Totally not worth it, but the photo is hilarious.