Reassurance for the squeamish: gory details have been omitted.

The tools: One of Ted’s and my wedding gifts was a beautifully engraved knife and a honing steel.

The task: For the 51+ years I’ve had it, I’ve used the honing steel to keep my knives sharp and I taught Ted and the kids how to hone our kitchen knives. Here’s Ted, demonstrating what I was doing with the knife I was honing. (Are you getting a hint of where this is going?)

The tragedy: After 51+ years, I have never even scratched myself honing a knife, but last night I sliced myself across the wrist.

I have a history of fainting at the sight of blood and at the thought of surgical needles piercing my skin, but I’ve always managed to remain conscious until the medical personnel took over. This was no exception. I saw the injury and slammed a wad of paper towel over it. When I quickly needed a second wad of paper towel, I directed Ted to tie a handkerchief around my forearm and to tie a pencil into it to form a tourniquet. (I learned that in first aid class in grade school and I finally had a chance to use my knowledge.) I kept my arm elevated while Ted drove me to the ER. So much for our plan to sit in our hot tub when we finished doing the dishes.

I was seen quickly and the wound was described as “suture worthy” and probably not a candidate for medical glue because of wrist movement. The first nurse I saw said the bleeding had nearly stopped, so Ted and I did a good job. She put a pressure bandage over my wrist and I kept my arm elevated while waiting for my turn with the doctor.

Because of strict COVID policies, the lobby was restricted to patients only, so Ted had to wait in the car until I was in a private ER room. While I was waiting my turn, I heard myself referred to as “the laceration.” Three different caregivers asked me at three different times if the injury was intentional. I assume a slashed wrist indicates possible suicidal thoughts. One nurse specifically asked if I’ve been thinking of suicide. No, I was mostly thinking about not fainting and wondering how on earth I managed to do this after 51+ years of honing knives almost daily. I said it wasn’t intentional; I cut myself while honing a knife. None of them knew what “honing” was. This gave me three opportunities to be a teacher again.

Nearly three hours later (obviously, my injury was not life-threatening), I was ushered into a room and Ted joined me. That nurse told me the cut was a little more than two inches long and definitely needed sutures. After another half-hour, the doctor arrived, examined the wound, cleaned it, and told me the bleeding had stopped and the tissue was already beginning to bond. She said nothing major was injured (artery, nerves, tendons) and that if I was willing to wear a splint and keep my wrist immobile for several days, it looked like the wound would heal satisfactorily if she closed it with steri-strips. I need to wear the splint 3-4 days, and the steri-strips will gradually peel off and be gone in a week or so.

Well, there goes my hot tub time for the next week! The splint is going to be inconvenient, but it’s a minor thing compared to how bad my injury could have been. It looks like I need another 51 years of practice with my honing steel.