Content Note: people of a nervous disposition should read no further, discussion of blood and body horror below.
For years, I’ve lived without owning any sharp knives. Or, if they once were sharp, that memory has long since been lost in time. Maybe they were sharp when I first bought them, along with the sharpening tool that I’ve never learnt to use properly. I’m thinking I’m not the only one with the not-quite-blunt kitchen knives. They get used everyday, but even cutting a tomato is a double-skills job – first prick the skin with the tip of the knife to break it then cut with the length of the knife, otherwise it’s a bit of a mess.
I never realised how much strength was needed in my cutting activities until I discovered ceramic knives. My mum has one and it was a revelation when I first tried it. Ceramic knives are the Daddy. They are also easy to maintain, you don’t ever need to sharpen them and they come with a cover. The only downside is that they can’t be used on really hard surfaces like glass or marble because the shock might cause them to break.
The main point of them though, is that they are flippin’ sharp. They cut through tomatoes like butter. They cut through broccoli like butter. They cut through human flesh like butter. I speak from experience, as it was my flesh they cut through like butter yesterday afternoon. It was an ugly scene.
Within minutes (after attempting to stem the blood flow with toilet paper and calling a couple of people), I was doing what comes most naturally to most of us in 2014, making an appeal on Facebook along the lines of ‘my brain has stopped working, what do I do next?’ and within minutes was receiving a fluttering of offers of help from wonderful friends. Seriously, it was amazing.
It also reminded me that I really should have a vague plan for this sort of thing. After the initial shock of ‘OMG my thumb is falling off’ came the ‘idontknowifineedtogotoa&edoineedtogotoa&eandifyesWHATDOIDOWITHTHEKIDS?’ – through this, it has to be said, I wasn’t panicking at all. I could tell it wasn’t life or death and so the kids had no clue for at least 30 minutes that anything was amiss. That is, until a friend came over with her collection of first aid kits and we took the toilet paper off. Poor Little Girl definitely laughed nervously at that point. Despite my reassurance and smiles, she definitely spotted that something was wrong. Like a bit of skin flapping, something like that. Damn.
Badgerman came home at this point and after a bit of faffing about deciding what to do with kids and dinner time and all the bleeding, I did eventually make it to A&E where I waited for a couple of hours feeling dizzy and ravenous, but in good spirits and with the engrossing companionship of A Dance With Dragons (Part 1).
Turns out, it might have looked like I was going to have to live with a chunk of thumb missing and it wasn’t even deep enough to need stitches. So now, I’ve got to keep the finger away from water for the next five days, which means I can’t do any washing up or bath time with the kids, or cleaning of my own hair. What fun that’s going to be!
One thing I can guarantee: these are good knives. They know their business and they take no prisoners. Other advice I may offer: it’s good to have a plan; and be careful with knives. They cut and make you bleed, and then you end up with no dinner.
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