and ran over my hand.
I didn't even scream. I ran and grabbed a kitchen towel and bolted outside to find Bart. I finally waved him down, and said, "I just cut my hand. We need to go to the ER." He gets off his mower, looks at my hand, and then says, "It doesn't look that bad, are you sure you need to go to the ER?"
Let me clarify that the end of my thumb is gone, and my pointer finger has a 2 inch deep slice into it.
"I don't think a bandaid will fix this. I'm going to the ER. I can drive myself if you are too busy." Ooooooooo, Lori.
Bart decided he should take me to the ER.
When we got there the folks at the Linton Hospital were awesome. They took me right back, numbed me up, and got right to the stitches. That's right.....did you hear that husband of mine? Stitches!!! Oh wait..... I got 3 on my thumb and 3 on my pointer finger. I looked very Frankenstienish. I have pictures, but I won't do that to you. Some of you might be eating.
The best part? We left the next day for Florida. Who on the plane wants to sit by the lady with huge, gross wounds on her hand? Good times, good times.
So, because of this fiasco the fabric I was working on got a new name. (Don't worry.....I had to trash the piece I was working on when I was injured.) Does anyone own a bag in "Cut Flowers?" It wasn't just a cutesy name. I earned that one the hard way!