For Medical Malady Saturday, I tried slicing off the tip of my finger at William Sonoma (last night). Did not have a drop of alcohol, medication, pain pill, or other intoxicant. Woke up this morning feeling hung over.
As for William Sonoma, Cathy and I were looking for a shrimp fork and I stumbled onto their shaved ice machine. The store had fake ice in the bin. Someone had dropped a single plastic ice cube into the chute on the top where you would feed the ice. I thought I would fish the plastic ice cube out never thinking my fingers would make contact with the blade. I received a severe gash that took 20 minutes to stop the bleeding and seriously considered going to an after hours clinic to see a doctor.
The scary thing is that, unlike other machines I have seen which only activate when the lid is closed over the blades, this machine has a toggle on/off switch meaning I (or a child) could have stupidly reached the blades while the machine was in operation.
I bet the quality of shaved ice produced by this machine is excellent. Despite the plastic, it is a nice looking appliance.
So, the second I felt my finger contact the blade I yanked my hand out of the machine and shoved it into the palm of my other hand applying a lot of pressure. I knew it was bad. I told Cathy, "I did something stupid." She wanted to see but I was afraid I’d spray blood across the store so I walked to an employee and quietly and calmly said, "I cut myself on one of your appliances. I need to use your bathroom." She replied, "We cannot let you in our bathroom but there are bathrooms in the food court." I explained that I was bleeding badly and asked if she could kindly bring me a paper towel. She returned a moment later to invite me into their special kitchen in the employee only space (by the way, it’s like Santa’s workshop back there) but they would not allow my wife to come with me. I ran my hand under cold water. The staff were very kind and attentive yet seemed flustered. I suspect this store could use a little more emergency preparedness training. They couldn’t find paper towels. They brought a spray antiseptic asking if I wanted that. They didn’t seem to know where their first aid kit was. They offered a variety of "maybe" suggestions. Maybe this will help. Maybe that will help. I was calm and jovial the entire time. Several times I explained it was my own stupidity and "no big deal." Finally I said, "It’s okay. I’m trained in first aid." The person with me visibly breathed a sigh of relief. I asked for a dry paper towel noting a bandaid would not stick on a wet hand. We put the bandaid on tightly and added a second for good measure. They handed me a bandaid for the road. I filled out some paperwork. Thanked them. And promptly left the store. I’d taken the happiness out of our shopping for the evening.