Feb. 6, 2012 at 10:40pm with 4 notes View comments
Today I opened a can of lentil soup with one of those rudimentary can openers, the kind that work almost like an opposite bottle opener. I was at school, and that’s all there was to use, because months earlier I broke the regular can opener, and didn’t replace it because I would always forget, until I had to open a can of soup. Kharma tore my thumb today. Is it the case for everyone that, right before you accidentally hurt yourself, you know you’re about to hurt yourself? You think, “You’re opening this nose ring with a pair of pliers. Why don’t you just punch yourself in the eye and skip the added trouble?” Or, “Pulling back the top of this jagged-edged can with your thumb is pretty stu—” Oh, there it is.  These are my first stitches. Every time I’ve cut myself before, I refused to get them, let my wound heal in whatever lop-sided manner it pleased. The scar on my inner thigh from a tree fall is in the shape of an exclamation point, both a warning and a celebration. The night of that fall, I experienced a moment of pure and absolute joy. I’m not sure whether the rush of adrenaline lasted until that point, but something about the throbbing limb and the fear of what came next brought me right to the moment. The same thing happened today, in the hospital. I’d never been cared for in a hospital; I’d only went to visit my sister, often, and friends. The PA had me bend my finger through the pain, to check whether I’d hit the tendon. She pressed her thumb into mine and I pressed back. She numbed it - by far the worst part - and had to root around the wound to get the needle in. When I looked down the pad she placed beneath my hand was soaked in blood. The nurse who gave me the tetanus shot talked to me about her daughter while the PA stitched. It was a slow afternoon there. Her son is about to marry a wealthy Indian woman, and she told her daughter to pick out any dress she wanted to wear to the wedding, and she would pay for it. Maybe there will be a single, wealthy Indian man there. Wouldn’t that be something. Her daughter is nice, and wears the same type of clothes that I wear. She worked in a toxic environment, where her boss reminded her daily he could replace her in minutes, but now she has a new job. The change will be good for her. She turns thirty next month. Before I cracked into that can of lentil soup this afternoon, I was fighting sleep in class. Acting for Writers. We were discussing A Streetcar Named Desire. The night before, reading the play, I feared that I would become Blanche, and dreamed accordingly. A good laceration will make you come to. It’s good to remember how much blood you have. I think about the bus rides I took a couple of years ago when I was traveling around Ecuador and Colombia, when the drivers took the cliffside turns far too fast. Once we tipped over, caught by the tall rock on the side of the road. I don’t want to glorify frivolously risking lives, but I was awake all the time, then, and I remember everything. 

Today I opened a can of lentil soup with one of those rudimentary can openers, the kind that work almost like an opposite bottle opener. I was at school, and that’s all there was to use, because months earlier I broke the regular can opener, and didn’t replace it because I would always forget, until I had to open a can of soup.

Kharma tore my thumb today. Is it the case for everyone that, right before you accidentally hurt yourself, you know you’re about to hurt yourself? You think, “You’re opening this nose ring with a pair of pliers. Why don’t you just punch yourself in the eye and skip the added trouble?” Or, “Pulling back the top of this jagged-edged can with your thumb is pretty stu—” Oh, there it is. 

These are my first stitches. Every time I’ve cut myself before, I refused to get them, let my wound heal in whatever lop-sided manner it pleased. The scar on my inner thigh from a tree fall is in the shape of an exclamation point, both a warning and a celebration. The night of that fall, I experienced a moment of pure and absolute joy. I’m not sure whether the rush of adrenaline lasted until that point, but something about the throbbing limb and the fear of what came next brought me right to the moment. The same thing happened today, in the hospital. I’d never been cared for in a hospital; I’d only went to visit my sister, often, and friends. The PA had me bend my finger through the pain, to check whether I’d hit the tendon. She pressed her thumb into mine and I pressed back. She numbed it - by far the worst part - and had to root around the wound to get the needle in. When I looked down the pad she placed beneath my hand was soaked in blood. The nurse who gave me the tetanus shot talked to me about her daughter while the PA stitched. It was a slow afternoon there. Her son is about to marry a wealthy Indian woman, and she told her daughter to pick out any dress she wanted to wear to the wedding, and she would pay for it. Maybe there will be a single, wealthy Indian man there. Wouldn’t that be something. Her daughter is nice, and wears the same type of clothes that I wear. She worked in a toxic environment, where her boss reminded her daily he could replace her in minutes, but now she has a new job. The change will be good for her. She turns thirty next month.

Before I cracked into that can of lentil soup this afternoon, I was fighting sleep in class. Acting for Writers. We were discussing A Streetcar Named Desire. The night before, reading the play, I feared that I would become Blanche, and dreamed accordingly. A good laceration will make you come to. It’s good to remember how much blood you have. I think about the bus rides I took a couple of years ago when I was traveling around Ecuador and Colombia, when the drivers took the cliffside turns far too fast. Once we tipped over, caught by the tall rock on the side of the road. I don’t want to glorify frivolously risking lives, but I was awake all the time, then, and I remember everything. 

  1. uhseef said: i am sorry about your injury. also,you are pretty. feel better.
  2. olddanyeller posted this
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