The Attack of the .....Evil Dinner Fork

Oh Boy....let me start out this blog post with a little background on my wonderful a.k.a. dangerous (to himself) hubby Tom.

Most of my family and friends know how many times I say the sentence "Hmm....Tom hasn't left a trail of blood for me lately. He's due!"

My husband has had 911 called because his breathing stopped after his shoulder surgery, has almost passed out while on the roof leaning over telling me of his intent (I used the mother tone at that time and told him to lay on his back and pass out THAT way because I wasn't able to catch him), has fallen down, and also up, the stairs and injured his shoulder (weeks of physical therapy), had a 2 3/4" gash in his arm requiring 20 stitches, walked directly into the safety gate across the doorway and made an immediate lunge forward almost hitting his forhead into the wall in front of him (Flamingo knee position), almost biffing it directly into our plate glass window with scissors in his hand because he was avoiding the dog at his feet, need I go on....I think you all have the picture. He's a very dangerous man to HIMSELF. I've also come home from work in previous years to trails of blood on the floor. You learn very quickly to not be too reactive when you have this type of character in your life. You never know what you are going to find at the end of the trail. He also makes a great subject for pictures and humor on those "remember when" family stories" moments.

Well to get to the point of this post. My wonderful guy decided to make dinner for me Sunday night because I was on the phone with my son driving back to Missouri and I was helping him pass some road time. We were having a nice conversation when I said to him "hold on...Tom was that an injury walk I just saw?" I had been sitting in my bedroom by the doorwall just chilling out but I could see directly down the hall leading toward the main livingroom and kitchen. Tom's answer was "Well I'm not sure, it might be". I asked him if he needed me to get off the phone and assist him and he said no he was doing just fine. My son heard it all going on and said "Mom you might want to go in the bathroom and check on him. You know how Tom is and he might have actually hurt himself. He won't say anything until it's all taken care of". I asked Tom the question again and he admitted that he poked himself. I then asked for greater detail expecting the hear he was using a sharp knife to trim the chicken breasts he was cooking. I even said "Did you cut your self with a knife?" His reply was very disturbing and I truly didn't believe him. Let me inform all of you that my hubby is quite a jokester so you never really know the truth. Tom stated "No, it was a fork." I said "Yeah right!" He then said "No really, I stuck a fork in my finger." He again said he didn't need any help until I heard him talking to himself from the bathroom complaining about the bandaid wrappers....yes plural ....WRAPPERS. When Tom uses the plural form of a word in this type of situation I am already thinking Emergency Room.

I told my son I better go and off to the bathroom I went. NOT to my surprise did I find a sink full of let me gently said "red colored water" with a large collection of kleenex wrapped around his finger (that WAS NOT really stopping the bleeding very well). It finally stopped after I told him to sit down and hold his hand up high while I prepared the bandage. I asked him for the whole story and this is was he told me.

He had started to cook the chicken breasts in the pan (sprayed PAM so they wouldn't stick) but it was getting a bit dry and he thought he would add some butter. Well the butter was in the freezer. He unwrapped a frozen quarter stick and instead of cutting a chunk off on the cutting board and taking it to the pan he decided to use the pan as a prop and use the fork to pop a small chunk off into the pan. He said his instincts told him not to do it but he did it anyway. Well needless to say, he's a strong guy and the butter isn't THAT frozen and he used all his might and the butter broke off pretty easily and the fork when into his finger. I honestly can't imagine a dull normal dinner fork impailing a finger. The worst part is that it didn't just go in.... it went in one side of his index finger and out under the the tip of the nail of that same finger. Just the fact that the fork tine gets a bit wider in size is what stopped it so you get the picture. WOW. I can't believe it was only one tine too....usually Tom would do at least two for effect!


To make this long story as short as possible he's all bandaged and recuperating with a nice black and blue finger tip. He just got feeling back in it this morning.

My goodness.....there's no lack of excitement in this house LOL!

Have a SAFE week everyone!
Darlene