I am going to tell you a story. A story of a girl who discovers that she is not Jamie Oliver nor Heston Blumenthal. She is not Nigella, nor is she Julia Child. And she is certainly not worthy of a place on Masterchef, or even Ready Steady Cook, despite how much she likes to delude herself into believing she is capable of using those flashy knife techniques that cut up food super-duper fast yet still perfect.
Yes, that girl is me. And the events of the day have led me to this place, being my couch, nursing a sore head and a sliced finger. Allow me to explain.
It started with breakfast, the most important meal of the day they say! And who does not love a bit of fruit for breakfast because I certainly do. A bit of banana, some beautiful strawberries, and lately because the joys of summer fruit are upon us, some mango. My favourite fruit in the whole wide world, and my love started young too. We used to be able to buy ten mangoes for a dollar at the market when I lived in Fiji, and since then, they have always been my go to summer fruit. Fresh and juicy, a delicious flavour, and so fun to eat…until now.
Maybe I was distracted, maybe the anticipation was too much to handle, maybe it was just my knife skills letting me down. While cutting a cheek, the knife slipped and sliced through my little pinky finger on its way down. Blood everywhere, my beautiful mango ruined, and the top of my finger now open like a book.
My first reaction? Well I swore like a sailor, let’s be honest. I then go into a what-the-hell-do-I-do-now state. So I grabbed some paper towel to try to absorb the flow of blood, then proceed to walk around the house yelling at my brother to get the hell out of bed so he can tell me what to do. I’m also starting to feel quite squirmy at this stage. The blood and the sight of my finger with a bit of skin hanging off it isn’t so pleasant and I don’t seem to be too good at handling it. Rule doctor out of potential career changes.
So halfway down the stairs, still trying to wake my brother because he is still in a blissful slumber unaware of my troubles, I start to get really light-headed and dizzy. So I sit down on the stairs, and put my head between my legs like they always seem to do in movies and on TV (so it must work then right). What happened next? Well I can’t actually tell you, because I have absolutely no idea. All I know is I woke up at the bottom of the stairs with blood coming out of my head as well. Oh great.
My guess, and I would say it’s pretty accurate despite my non-medical background, is that I fainted. But I didn’t just faint, oh I fainted spectacularly! I rolled down the stairs, hit my head on the banister and thudded into the wall. And now my brother decides to wake up. And I have to say, waking up from my little fainting spell is one of the weirdest feelings I’ve ever felt. I had the whole how-did-I-get-here experience, and having never passed out from alcohol in a random place before, this was a first for me.
But what is even weirder, is that I felt completely fine. No sore bones, no more dizziness (the fainting had handled that one for me), and just a little scratch on my forehead. I was even able to look at my finger and realised it actually wasn’t that bad. The bleeding had stopped, so I thought…hmm she’ll be right.
But the trouble with informing your mother about your crazy adventures while she’s in Sydney, is that she does freak out. She doesn’t think, hmm she’ll be right. So off to the doctor I go. Mind you this was a couple of hours later after I had devoured my fruit breakfast (minus the bloody mango) and watched an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. And it turns out my poor little pinky did need stitches, but it was too long after the injury occurred to do them because that interrupts the healing process (who knew!). So instead I’m stuck with those funny little strips and gauze to try to hold the skin together. Oh, and it turns out I have a mild concussion. Is it weird that I find that quite cool? Yep, apparently hitting your head after fainting isn’t a ‘she’ll be right’ moment, I’ve got to remember that one.
But the worst part is, my mum now thinks she should buy me those special knives they have for kids. How embarrassing.
So that’s my story, and I’m sorry for the rambling. This is only my second ever injury story so it’s hard not to get carried away, because it’s a pretty cool story if I do say so myself. I cut my finger slicing mango, fainted, rolled down the stairs and got concussion…not your average Wednesday.