So, I am typing with 9 fingers...and ended up getting my first stitches since I was little. Kevin heard me yell in pain and when he came out to see what was wrong and said the craziest part was that I seemed more frustrated than hurting...which I was. I was mad at myself, because it was one of those stupid things. I was opening a can of pears, and our cheap can opener did not cut it all the way and I couldn't get it to work. So, thinking of my impatient hungry son i tried to pry it open enough that I can pour out the contents. Unfortunately, I ended up with a u shaped slice.
Hoping it wasn't that bad, I did the first aid thing...elevate and pressure. Unfortunately, this did not completely help, it kept bleeding...so after debating, we decided to go to urgent care. My wonderful neighbor took Jack and it only took about an hour there. Four stitches later, I am typing with 9 fingers.
I am someone who has been molded and shaped through the many paths and places I have walked...I have seen little and much...I believe but struggle to have faith...I desire to know God but still at times run from him...I desire life but at times lack the bravery to chase after it...I am me but all that that entails is still a mystery.
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