M.I.A.

In the spirit of offering an excuse for the radio silence here- I'll share my story of thumbkin.

My thumb on my left hand has had, yet another trauma. If I haven't shared the January of '07 adventure of medicating my cat then I'll spare you the details but some may know that he bit THROUGH my thumb. Yeah- that was his way of saying 'fuck you, I'm not taking your medicine.' OK.

Here's how it went down to the doctor.

I'm sitting in the exam room and the nurse asks what brings me in today.
M.I.A.- well, my thumb hurts something fierce.
Nurse- Let me take look at it, what did you do?
M.I.A.- well, see- a couple weeks ago I'd painted my nails. I get to work and realize I have a bit of polish on the skin and so I filed it off.
*nurse continues to take notes.
So evidently I filed a bit to aggressively because it hurt. That was 3 weeks ago.
Nurse- So that's it.
M.I.A.- Not exactly.. . . . . Last night I meet my friends at the bar and was really sore- like down into my wrist. My friend tells me that I have a hangnail and that we're going to have to dig it out. So I soaked my finger in a shot of whiskey, downed the whiskey, went home and let her dig in the side of my nail with some needle-nose tweezers. *immediately look at the ground as to avoid nonverbal admonishment.
Nurse- So, you dug around in your sore thumb?
M.I.A.- no, my friend did- it hurt like hell, I'm not doing it.
Nurse- *setting notes down, hand on face* So, you had someone dig around in your whiskey marinaded finger.
M.I.A.- yes ma'am.

*enter Doctor.
Now, I love this doctor. She's has a braid of grey garnished hair about half way down her back and likes to call me 'pumba.' She's neat. . . when she's not shocked at your at home surgery story.
Doc- So did you sterilize the tweezers?
M.I.A.- I held them over a lighter flame for a bit.
Doc- No. Ok, so you let someone poke around looking for something to dig out.
M.I.A.- yes ma'am.
Doc- Don't do that shit again.
M.I.A.- yes ma'am.

I was given antibiotics and told to return in a week.
BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE!

So I'm on my antibi-odds for about 3 days and I'm noticing that the pain and the swelling are not improved so I call the expert. My BFF. I'm soaking in a nice hot bath and Em is on speaker phone. I multitask, what can I say? Em tells me that it may need amputating and that I need to go see my doctor again and to go ahead and prepare for the worst. She didn't really tell me that but she might as well have. I get out of the tub, 'love you's' and 'byes' with Em.
I thought my finger was feeling a bit better and touch it. . .
PUS!
Yeah- I freak the FUCK OUT! Call the original surgeon!

M.I.A.- HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING AND CAN YOU COME OVER NOW MY FINGER IS PUS'D OFF!
Moni- yeah, wait, what? What's wrong?
M.I.A.- I HAVE PUS COMING OUT OF MY FINGER AND I'M NOT TOUCHING IT.
Moni- ok, I'll be right there.

What in reality was about 7 minutes, felt like forever. I grab a paper towel and make a big collar for my thumb- I just didn't want to see it- that shit was gross and I was not about to look at the pus coming out of my thumb.
Moni arrives.
She proceeds to squeeze 3 bb sized balls of pus out of thumbkin.

Thumbkins better and I believe I have to leave the vast M.I.A. fortune to her. Too bad she's allergic to cats but she said that she does like my fancy wineglass.
Here's to friends that love the pus out you!