I had Big Plans for this weekend. That were swiftly interrupted by a trip to the emergency room this morning.
I bought a ceramic curling iron yesterday and decided to give it a go this morning before family came over to take me to lunch. I cranked it up to the highest setting , and promptly dropped it on the carpet. I had the clarity of mind to step back so it didn't land on my bare feet. I remember thinking I shouldn't grab it by the black end, because that end of my Chi = the Dangerous Side. Hmmm. Seems there is a different Wrong End of the newest instrument of hair torture in my home.
I closed my entire right hand around the barrel for a nano second. You know: the amount of time for the brain to scream "DROP IT LIKE IT'S HOT!" Because it was setting 24 worth of The Hot.
I immediately grabbed a handful of ice as the relatives stopped by to pick me up for lunch. With a surprise detour to have a doctor assess the damage. Apparently, icing it quickly kept the burn from going too deep: "only" first and second degree burns that needed to be medicated, wrapped and elevated with ice packs. And pain meds that caused me to lose the remainder of the afternoon.
I am convinced doctors do not figure in the size of a person when prescribing medication. I am 5 feet tall. I'm thinking a 6 foot, 300 pound man would receive the same Rx. Summarizing: I no longer feel the pain in my hand, but I also do not have the mental activity to remember my children's names. Nor can I follow any television shows more complicated than "Storage Wars" or "Auction Kings". My brain is reduced to the lowest possible denominator by this medicine.
Young Son stayed for a while with me to make sure I was going to be okay. While we were visiting (read: he was talking, I was listening through a legally induced drug fog), he said, "Wow. Look at the size of that lizard on the carpet by the window." My arch nemesis and quasi-roommate The Lizard (discussed in this post) was staring me down. Probably knowing I was vulnerable to attack. Little did he know that Young Son has trapped critters for lo, these 24 years and said lizard was going down. Using a small trash can, file folder and trashbag, the freeloader was evicted to the outdoors in a matter of seconds.
Good riddance, wayward reptile. At least the skin on my hand will heal. You shall always have lizard skin. Outside. Where you belong.