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This was originally a blog post. But out of concern for my readers I have moved it to it's very own page.
I didn't get my fix with sculpted cake, I needed to try sculpting my hand. We had just barely started working in class; today was day one of two for Haley, my partner, and I to do our birthday cake. I grabbed a huge chunk of fondant and my pairing knife to quickly tear a chunk off for our cake. I was cutting downward, looking at my scale, thinking why was a Beatles song stuck in my head, and then... ouch. I stare down to my pairing knife comfortably wedged in my thumb. I pulled it out and thought "well that's just perfect, I totally have to clean my knife now!" I walk over to Haley at the sink and show her my thumb. We start to laugh and I rinsed it under the sink. She was like "are you ok?!" I'm like "oh yeah I'm totally fine", then she is like "ok cause I might not be". haha Oh no I had a fainter on my hand. (no pun intended) I was like "uhh you might not want to look" and blood poured into my palm. I figured it was time for a band-aid. Haley, being an awesome person, came over and helped me wrap it up. We went back to work on our cake, and it was coming along perfectly! Finally at the end of the day I was thinking it probably stopped bleeding so I should probably wrap it better. Once again Haley, being awesome, came over and helped me wrap it up the second time. It didn't heal as quickly as I had hoped, so when I took off the bandage it started bleeding pretty bad again. Our intern came in and started laughing, and begged him not to tell. I do NOT want to be used as a bad example for the next 20 years of knife skills training day. I finally made a phone call to my brother to explain and he, being wise, convinced me that it was pretty valid reason to leave class early. So I went over to Chef Nicholas, "umm.. Chef.. so.. I was wondering if I could leave class a little early.. see I uhh kinda cut my thumb... and I think I need some stitches."
I got onto the train and I plugged in my ipod. Thaaaat's why that song was stuck in my head. On came the Glee version of "I wanna hold your hand". Sick joke ipod. My sister-in-law picked me up at the station, armed with a blanket, pain meds, and dinner. She rocks. We went to the ER where I met my new best friend, Cullen. He is 2 1/2 years old, with the cutest Christmas pajamas. He got a little excited playing "three little monkeys jumping on the bed", and cut his cheek open. Poor little guy. We made it backstage, and the doctor came in to explain the procedure. Umm, hello sexy ER doctor. I would have cut my hand open sooner if I knew he was going to be the one stitching it up. He was like a blond version of Clark Kent, I kept look for the superman costume. Perfection in scrubs. He was explaining about looking for signs of infection, but those words marbled into background noise for my own thoughts. My thoughts of "Emily, seriously?, why did you wake up this morning and think it was ok to look like a homeless college student?". Those thoughts quickly faded when he jammed a needle the size of Alaska into my thumb. Then my only thoughts were "holy #&$*#&$ (cow)! this &#@&$ (really) hurts!" Well, five stitches later and they sent me home. If you think this is going to effect my birthday cake, or my wedding cake, think again my friend.
