knife weaving--not a new craft idea

Oh, the stupid things we do. I mean, really.

Yesterday I was—no, I need to back up.

Saturday—nope, not far enough.

When we moved in there was a dirty, grimy plastic cabinet left on the back porch. I was excited. I looked forward to cleaning it up and making good use of it. I’m thinking bubbles for easy access and stuff like that. It just made sense to me. Now, when I say grimy, I mean it was really filthy and they left some trash and stuff inside—including on old steak knife, probably from grilling out.

Last weekend we were doing a lot of cleaning and arranging in the garage to make room for the second car (nope, we’re still not finished unpacking, but it’s getting there, slowly but surely). A lot of boxes went to the bonus room that day. Anyhow, while we were out there we let Little B earn a bit of money by cleaning said cabinet. Hose, sponges and brushes, soap. Fun, you know? He did have a blast. My husband just carried the thing around and away he scrubbed. At the time, I gave no thought to where he put the aforementioned stuff/trash from inside. My intent all along was to completely throw away the knife. I mean, it had a bit of rust on the edge and stuff, and heck, who knows what it was really used for.

Well, we’d never discussed that knife. It just didn’t hit high priority, you know? So, Saturday I had cooked dinner and grabbed a knife from my knife stash to cut up some meat and veggies for Miss C. It looked different, and I absently considered that my mom must have left it as she often does with things she finds and thinks I’ll like. I did notice it looked old, almost rusty, but wasn’t sure what to think of the spots further up the blade and decided to just try it out anyway.

After my husband came in, I mentioned that I didn’t know where that knife had come from and he told me it was from that old cabinet (he had run it through the dishwasher, but still!). I, uh, ahem, got a bit upset, and told him he could cut more food for Miss C since I didn’t want to feed her after using that particular knife on it. And I proceeded to set the knife back on the counter to be disposed of. I noticed then that it was actually broken anyway—the blade separating from the handle. I don’t know how I missed it before, but anyway, that’s not the point (no pun intended).

Yesterday afternoon, I stayed home with a severe migraine and let my husband take Little B to my parent’s for a fall festival in their town (I kept Miss C, but she did nap part of the time). After the intensity had subsided, I puttered around, not particularly cleaning but when I saw the knife, I immediately wanted to dispose of it, having forgotten the night before. I’m not even going to share all the stupid details of what I did, but suffice it to say I removed the blade from the handle since that was coming apart. Before putting into the folded up cardboard and taping it, I managed to stab my hand.

Just beneath the pointer finger, the palm side up, there is a lovely ½ inch cut, going across. An inch below that there is what appears to be a tiny cut, as though a blade nicked me; can we say, “exit wound”? I can. Oh, and below that you will see yet another, tinier spot, almost like needle prick; that would be a “would-be re-entry wound.” I was knife-weaving in my hand. Oh joy.

I will spare you the blood and gore if it, but suffice it to say I got it under control after a couple of minutes and wrapped way too much gauze and tape around the palm of my hand simply for pressure to prevent more bloodshed.

It was much later that night when the vague thoughts of “tetanus shot” really took ground in my mind. That knife had not been re-washed since using it for food and it did have what I would say is rust, though not really where it got me. I called my mommy to talk about it—I still need her! She said I needed to call someone and make sure there was not a time limit when needing one. Oh, and I was still trying to decide if I needed any stitches. Haha!

I called the nurse-on-call with my insurance and they said I had 48 hours to get the shot, the doctor could tell me if I needed stitches. Okay, night-night.

Today, I saw my doctor. I got the tetanus shot. I found out I would have gotten one, maybe two stitches yesterday if I’d seen someone. But you have to take care of that within 10 hours of the injury! Oh well. At least it’s healing. Though my arm is terribly sore from that shot. I dont' know when I last had a tetanus shot! And my wonderful husband stayed home to drive me since it’s my right hand and I drive a manual transmission. He even changed not one but two dirty diapers. I told you he was great.