At work on a daily basis I am subjected to an assortment of
minor injuries. I use the term injury loosely, as they are mainly paper and
steel cuts, splinters, and minor scrapes and bruises. My hands are rough after
seven months of working with paper, and I infrequently feel any pain, but
something rare happened today that made me cringe, and I’m going to do my best
to make you feel it.
Laminating requires paper to move along conveyer belts,
through heated rollers, and out onto vibrating tables called joggers. Overall
it isn’t very exciting, but I do like it, and I am learning a lot about an
industry that will be around for a long time. On occasion, I am required to put
my hands into places where the edges of thick paper, called card stock, are
exposed and the paper cuts happen slowly and often I can’t move my hand away
until a problem is resolved, sometimes lasting for a second or two, a very long
time to get a paper cut. You can try it yourself at home if you like, but I
wouldn’t recommend it.
Today I was adjusting a belt on a large machine and it
happened. Moving along at only four meters per minute, a 40-inch sheet of card
stock made its way under my fingernail on my right ring finger. I couldn’t move
my hand or the belt would spin out of control and potentially destroy it. It
felt exactly like it sounds. The pain immediately shot up the entire length of
my arm and I could see blood soaking into the edge of the sheet as it rolled on
by. I got the belt tight with my other hand, and just then it happened again to
my left thumb. It went right under the nail. I felt like I might throw up, and
I had the sudden urge to make a poop. I couldn’t just walk away from the
running machine at that point, so I sucked it up and put on a couple Band-Aid’s©
and continued to run the job.
For eight months I had avoided the paper cut that nobody
wants, and then it happened twice in about two seconds. I’m not traumatized,
and if that’s the worst thing that happens to me today, I’ll be pretty happy.
But for those two long seconds, my overactive imagination leads me to believe I
was going to be hospitalized or dead. But here I am, alive and well.
On a completely different note, if you pray, or talk with a
Higher Power, say a few words for my dog Willie tonight. He’s been sick for two
weeks and doesn’t seem to be getting any better. He’s at the Vet for the third
or fourth time since he began to decline shortly after having surgery to remove
two infected teeth a couple weeks back. I know he’s old, and I know old dogs
die, but I’m not ready for him to die like this. That said, I also know it’s
out of my hands, and whatever happens, happens. It might sound crummy to say,
but I can’t control this situation, I can only do my best to make sure he’s
comfortable while he’s sick. And I can’t even take credit for that because he’s
with my aunt Connie. So I’m very grateful to have her taking care of him right
now. Connie, thank you for cleaning up all of his diarrhea, you are a true
hero.
