Feel the Burn

Of my hand, that is. Saturday night will remain one of the most memorable nights in my life, I am sure. I will be telling this story someday when I am a grandma, over and over again. Because. it. hurt. so. badly.

Backing up, I invited my mom over for dinner and we were making homemade macaroni and cheese with broccoli. It was coming along well, and we put it in the 350 degree oven to do whatever a pasta does. Charlie came home from work, and took it out of the oven (using an oven mitt, like a normal person would). He lifted it out holding it only by the long handle - that thing was seriously heavy - and said "ouch, that hurt my wrist" or something like that. Then I said, "Really, you hurt your wrist? Let me try-" and proceeded to grab the handle and lift. Later I heard Charlie's voice saying "Noooooo" right before I did.

Everything seemed like it was in slow motion. I know I was screaming and I know that they put it under cold ice water, and I thought someone else was screaming too. It turns out the dogs were howling with me, which now seems funny. It was seriously the worst pain ever. And I was crying, oh was I crying. "Is this what childbirth feels like?" "I can't go to work and play the guitar with my left hand only" "Is my hand dying?" Then after I started to calm down (I'm sure Charlie and my mom would laugh at my use of that phrase) Charlie told me that I needed to take my hand out because I was going to get frostbite. Seriously??? So I reluctantly tried, and immediately started crying again because the pain came back "just (sob) like (sob) it (sob) felt (sob) like when I (sob) burned it (sob sob sob)." Finally, they convinced me I could do it, I bit down on a towel and breathed like I was in labor, and Charlie wrapped my hand up.

Did I mention that I have a low pain tolerance? But seriously, it was not your average burn. And I did have to miss work a few days this week. But I am happy to report that "the claw" is healing well. And that's the story! The End.