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"Is it infected?"
"No, your finger has been through a trauma."
A trauma named Toonces!
Inexperienced cat parents that we are, we did not wear gloves to put Toonces in the cat-carrier for her trip to the vet to have her nails clipped and teeth cleaned.
My left hand is the one I use routinely and its middle-finger is sheathed in a thick, white, cotton tube through tomorrow. When it first happened, I looked at the inside of the finger, from finger-tip to palm, and had to sit down, so I wouldn't faint.
And she punctured my right hand on the meaty part, outside with a tooth, leaving a big, brown, bruise around the bite.
"No typing for two days. Do you need a note for work?"
"That's not going to happen," I answered.
The doctor shook her head and walked away. Turns out, the pain forced me to type minimally the first day and still, not as much as usual yesterday either...what a great disclaimer for not having blogged more frequently lately.
After my first visit to the doctor, in the CVS parking lot, where I went to pick up my Augmentin antibiotic prescription, I burst into tears. An animal had never before attacked me, let alone a pet. First, I cried from shock and then from shame. You baby! So many women your age have been through the pain of child-birth. What's with you? Enough!
Scolding myself didn't curtail the tears. I wanted to call my mom for comfort because Pat was at her Master Gardener training and I didn't want to bug her, but I couldn't call my mother because I didn't want to scare her. So I sat behind the wheel, feeling like an infantile adult/grown-up baby and cried really hard for a few minutes, till I felt some relief.
And then an ultimately comforting series of thoughts entered my head: Pull yourself together. The sooner you get the prescription, the sooner you can go home. Probably, Toonces' sister Phoebe is crying by herself at home, wondering where everyone -- especially Toonces -- went, and you can comfort each other.
Phoebe was waiting by the door when I arrived. I got cat-hair all over my bandages.