Le Ouch

I am moved to sing praises for my teammate Monique. We headed out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate Amanda’s birthday. There we were, drinking margaritas on the deck, when I startled the crowd with a cry of pain. I had reached under the table for my napkin, and somehow had graised the inside of the wooden table. My finger emerged with a huge splinter under my fingernail. This was not some tiny speckle of wood, but a fat, pointed slice of wood which drove itself clear down from my fingertip to the bottom of my cuticle. Serious buzz kill.

Other than having me drink a lot more margaritas, no one was quite sure what to do with me. Mike (and my mother) have been privy to more than one post-doctor visit phone call when I am seeing spots, tolerating ringing in my ears, drenched in sweat, and on the verge of fainting from some minor procedure which has freaked me out.

As I pondered my finger’s fate, Mike ran across the street to a Walgreens and bought tweezers and nail clippers.

Step 1: Clip the nail super-short for better access to the splinter.
Step 2: Carefully grab the splinter. Confidently yank it out so as to not break it and leave it inaccessible under my nail.

Monique’s swift hand, a mouthful of cerviche, and a bit of pre-chugging of the margarita made the procedure quite swift. It hurt like hell, but…mom will be proud…I didn’t end up with my head between my legs, warding off the dreaded faint.

Mike was the highly-paid photographer. At the end of the tweezers, you’ll see the splinter. Remember, this whole thing was under my fingernail! Yes, it was at least 1 foot long… I'm sure of it!!!

Cancel your health insurance. Dr. Monique is your woman.