The farming finger

Today was a busy day down on the farm. The alder needed some serious pruning as it was casting a bit too much shadow on the peas. The berry patch needed some serious weeding as the dandelions were threatening to take over. We also discovered some volunteer tomato plants that popped up amongst the berry bushes and required immediate transplanting. The compost needed turning and replenishing. The chicken coop needed to have a 12" trench dug all the way around it. All the plants needed a serious long soaking of water since our weather has been cloudy but very dry. Now they could use some sun!

Now, this farmer managed to get through all those chores without a scratch; wielding shears, clippers, pitchfork, hoes, and shovels, all manner of sharp instruments. So how did I manage to have a thorough blood bath with the middle finger on my right hand?

No, not slicing an apple.
No mishap with the garbage disposal.
No critter (dog, cat, human, chicken, or fish) took a bite.
Not a paper cut!

After working out at the gym, I grabbed my gear from the car and slammed my OWN finger in the car door. Then I couldn't get it out for a couple of minutes, during which time I went from ouch to screaming! When I did get the door open, blood was streaming down both the front and back of my forearm, and I couldn't even see the finger that I smashed. After making through the front door and to the sink, I saw that I'd bisected the nail on that finger and blood was pouring out from the cut, below, and above. After running six miles at the gym, my heart was still pumping really hard. After smashing my finger, it was pumping even faster, and I began to feel quite woozy. So I grabbed an icepack from the freezer and proped myself up against the hall closet. My finger is now a lovely swollen purple and continues to bleed under the nail bed. This freakin' hurts!

Motto of this digital tale: Before slamming any door, know where one's fingers are or are not.

I'm going to stop typing now and go put more ice on my finger. OUCH!