Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Handin' It To The Cats ...

God bless Kabuki. If the rest of my cats were the Real McCoys, he was "Grandpappy Amos". Sadly, he's no longer with me ... but that Fateful Day could've been a lot earlier in his illustrious life

Y'see, a few years ago, I had a panful of boiling grease -- the result of frying up a package of bacon . As I was transferring the grease to a trap at the side of the sink, he ran in front of me. Now, the handle of the pan was kinda loose, and was just about to come off -- and I knew the entire, scalding-hot mess would douse K-Cat!

So, instead of seeing him fatally burned, I pushed the handle down in a snap, and took the entire load of it on my left hand!

Now, I'm not gonna say it hurt, but it was at that very moment that I found I could dance a very mean Watusi.
I ran to the fridge, jerked open the freezer door with my good hand and stuck the parboiled one in a big bag of ice. Then I took the bag out, poured it into a pot I had on the stove and carried it to the coffee-table in the living room (yes, I had to take my already-swollen paw outta the ice to do it. My reaction to the immense pain nearly resulted in five new curse words added to the Merriam-Webster® dictionary ...).I laid down on the sofa and stuck my hand in the pot. The relief was overwhelming -- and I shortly fell asleep.
But ...
two hours later, I awoke (hand still in the ice) to find my cats had gathered around on the sofa and table -- staring at my crotch (I could swear that the smallest were giggling. K-Cat and the others just shook their heads in disbelief ...).
So it's not just warm water that loosens the ol' bladder, eh?? Gotta make a note ...

Two Tylenol®, a bottle of peroxide (poured, not drank) and an ace-bandage later, the pain was still so bad that I went to the local ER to be checked out. Two hours passed -- I was down to the last two buttons of my shirt. I'd already chewed the rest of them off -- and the doctor came to look at it.
"You need to have somebody take a look at it," he said. He meant someone called a reconstructive surgeon. I was just hoping he'd have come back with a hatchet and cut the darn thing off.

Instead, I drove to the pharmacy (he did prescribe medication to ease the pain. What, exactly, is "arsenic", anyway? ...), and they gave me a jar of some kind of cream to put on it as well. Of course, I was to keep it bandaged afterward ...

The next few days were ... well, eventful. Now, I also had two dogs -- one male, one female -- who were very well-trained. All I had to do is give a simple command like sit, stay, flush and they'd do it.

But, once, I walked into the computer room to try my hand (literally!) on the Compaq®, when I accidentally hit my bandaged-but-still-throbbing hand against the doorsill.
Now, I'm not gonna repeat what I said, nor how often I said it -- but, when I turned around, the hall was filled with little brown poops!

NOTE: Whilst the second-and-third degree burns apparently had done enough damage to warrant reconstruction, I chose against it. It healed perfectly, and today I have total use of the hand. Miracle?? Therapy?? Listen ... the most miraculous therapy I received was some loving cats gently rubbing against the bandaged hand, purring ... and tender doggy-licks as deep brown eyes gazed up at me as if to say, Daddy, you're gonna be alright ...
and, by the way: thanks for smearing the back of your bandage with peanut-butter!

No comments:

Post a Comment