Stitched: Halloween on My Finger.

Eat a bite of fish everyday-and blame it on too many fishing trips as a child.

As with most things, my eating habits, those who know me will agree, are slightly OCD, ok, ok, very OCD. What do I mean by this? Well, going to the same store every time, namely Trader Joe's, and buying nearly the exact same things every time in the same quantities is where it starts. My receipt's list of purchases appears as follows: spinach, carrots, mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, rye bread, and tortillas. The order depends on how the cashier checks it through. Add in's include string cheese, almond milk, peanut butter Puffins all natural corn cereal, and ground coffee. I diversify further sometimes with ice cream, on the rough days when all seems lost. You probably will think I am exaggerating when I say I buy these items every shopping venture, but I'm not. I do buy these things every shopping venture and I'm starting to disturb myself.

One more item on the receipt, the last "Anika must have now" food, to complete this introduction: salmon.

Frozen salmon, like all things icy, likes to stick, plastered to itself until thawed. I was in a hurry. I did not thaw the salmon. I attempted prying two pieces apart with a long, skinny bladed kitchen knife.

In the next two minutes, a lot happened. I watched the knife move forward and strike the salmon, in the frozen crevice. I watched the knife struggle against its stubbornness, then in the next instance, pop it apart and continue advancing, very quickly. I watched the knife shatter the tranquil space between the meat and my right ring finger, and lastly, I saw the knife pop into the underside of my fingertip, unresisted, and out the other side.

Oh my...the silver blade was red and wet as it peeped out from the side of my nail, it disappeared underneath again and in the next instant, rested quietly in my left hand, as if nothing had happened. Liar.

I can't believe I just did that...No blood yet, but quickly the thin lines on both sides of the appendage turned pink skin more and more scarlet, growing and blurring. Cold water, kitchen sink, hydrogen peroxide, clean towel...I searched out the last two items and ran to the bathroom for the disinfecting and application of pressure to the wound. So far so good, feeling alright, feeling...a little light-headed...

Front porch, Elton's feet sticking out under the passenger door, he's loading things into the car. "Elton...Elton?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Can you come here please?"

"Yeah, sure."

Back to the bathroom, clutching the finger, sit on the toilet, cheap plastic creaking under my weight. Definitely light headed, definitely not promising...

"You alright? What's wrong?"

"Small problem...I stabbed my finger through in the kitchen."

"What? Are you ok?"

Going, going, grey and firm floor.

"Whoa! Babe, here, get up, sit here." Attempt at sitting, bad idea, back down to comforting hard panel flooring.

"Wait, give me a second..." Darkness, nothing, nothing at all. Like the deepest sleep ever and please don't wake me up because it feels awesome. My head is cool, I know I'm laying flat on the floor, the finger forgotten.

Elton's perspective:

"Wait, give me a second..." Watching her lie down, watching...the color drain from Anika's face, pure white lips, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling, pupils dilating and shrinking randomly. His hand jerks to touch a frozen-in-place-face.

"What is HAPPENING?"

High speed, acceleration, I feel fast feet vibrating on the paneling beneath my ears and I start to giggle on my way out of the tunnel, I know Elton is tearing around the house like a maniac looking for something, must be the phone. He wants to call 911.

"Elton...I'm alright, come here..." I hear him run in and stop abruptly. My eyes are still closed and when I squint them open I look up and see him just starring at me from the doorframe, stunned.

Poor chap, thought I was done for.

I'm fine now though and slowly get up, he helps, and I'm so thirsty. Cold water, clearing head, finger's stopped bleeding. But starting to hurt.

Checking out the wound revealed extroverted little bubbles of adipose tissue pushing out-not charming, not matter how chummy. Stitches necessary, no doubt.

It was off to the ER on a sleepy Saturday; somehow it still took two hours to get the thing done up-half my hand numb after two pricks to the palm (purgatory...), nylon threads in place, like black gnats grouped together-Halloween on my finger. We escaped out of the waiting room leaving coughing patients in face-masks in our wake, wonderful, we are going to now contract something... We haven't. Yet. Pandemic...

My finger tip is still delightfully deadened, I suppose this might pass if my nerve endings ever forgive my stupidity. For now, mercifully, the slice does not hurt, for which I am grateful.

In fact, so much so, I ate salmon for dinner tonight.