HOW AN ONION MADE ME FAINT

If you had walked in my kitchen Wednesday evening around 6:30, you might have noticed me lying on the floor clinging to a paper towel and consciousness.

You see, I had this wonderful idea to serve veggie sandwiches for book club, a build-your-own boofay, if you will. We had every color of the rainbow: red and yellow peppers, pink tomatoes, green lettuce, orange hummus, whit-ish cucumbers, avocado avocados, sprouty sprouts (it's the latest in the 196 crayons box of Crayola), black beans, brown bread, blue….. blue plates! And purple. Purple Onion. dun dun duuuunnnnn.

Really, I shouldn't blame the onion. It's not the onion's fault. I was the one with the knife. I was the one talking instead of chanting concentrate, coooonceeennntrate, don't cut your finger, focus.

So I sliced my thumbed open. I shrieked, Aaron came running. But I wouldn't let him see it because PRESSURE, I have to apply PRESSURE! He went to fetch the first aid supplies while I made my way to a chair applying PRESSURE, oh stop the bleeding please, just STOP the BLEEDING and I'll be okay.

After a minute or two, Aaron guided me back to the sink to assess the damage. He gently coaxed me to release my death grip of pressure, poured the tiniest bit of hydrogen peroxide on the mammoth slice of bloody searing pain cut which doesn't even hurt, yo, but it was still bleeding and oh my I'm about to pass out again just typing this.

It's been a while since I've actually passed out. And not for lack of opportunities. In the last year, I had blood drawn no less than ten times; but when having blood drawn, I can PREPARE myself and LOOK AWAY and put a huge bandage over the tiny spot that isn't even bleeding anymore (except for that one time I moved my arm too soon and bled all over my shirt and my bag and the doctor's office and I didn't even notice because, LOOK AWAY, until someone said "ummm, you have blood running all over your body" and I had to rush to the bathroom to clean it up and brace myself against the handicap bars while I cried because poor me I hate this place and you made me bleeeeeeed). Where was I? Oh yes. So it's been a while.

That familiar woozy feeling came over me and the tunnel vision of no return closed in as I started to sweat. My knees went totally weak and Aaron, sweet Aaron, catches me and is all Are you okay, Ang, Ang, what's going on? and the best I could muster was, Just need to lie doooowwnnnn. On the tiiiile. It's so cooooold. Feels goooood.

Aaron is really cute when I'm in distress. He starts running around like a maniac trying to make it better. Whatever It happens to be. After he safely maneuvered me to the kitchen floor, he grabbed for something out of the freezer to put on the back of my neck. It was an eye-mask. Like an eye-mask to relieve puffy eyes eye-mask. I think that's the first time we've used that eye-mask. All I could think was, Huh, that kind of looks like a lime flavored freezer pop in the shape of the Hamburglar's mask.

I don't think I ever fully lost consciousness. I just laid on the floor for about five minutes gripping my thumb and thinking about the Hamburglar's mask on my neck while Aaron fanned me with a paper plate.

Once I regained my strength and got my wits about me (heh heh, kind of sounds like I was recovering from being kicked by a horse) Aaron helped me up and finished bandaging my gaping flesh of pain and sorrow wound.

Then he made me wear a latex glove. Kind of like Michael Jackson, only less shiny. R.I.P.

The glove was not so that I wouldn't get blood (which was still seeping out… a little… okay maybe not really but OH MAH GAH STOP BLEEDING) on the food I was preparing for book club, but so that I would not, heaven forbid, get onion juice in the cut, because, ya know, THAT would be REALLY bad.