People!! I can not believe the bizarre events that transpired last night. I’m still reeling from the experience and just now coming out of my Percocet-induced haze…
What began with a blur of black and white fur, claws, teeth, and screams culminated four hours later in the halls of the Twin Cities ER with the whine of a jewelry saw and the puncture of a needle in my ass.
Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?
At around 8:30 p.m. last night, I had just finished the dishes and I had settled down with a book at the kitchen table. Out of nowhere, I see this black and white streak out of the corner of my eye. I had just put together that a stray cat had somehow found a way inside our house, when Kula perked up and started snarling and chasing the poor, terrified creature. I lunged across the living room as Kula caught the cat and was affixing her jaws to its jugular. I kicked Kula, and in a moment of stupidity, tried to scoop the cat up off the floor to pull her away from Kula.
What came next is sort of hazy… but it goes something like this: Kula is still trying to kill the cat, baring her teeth and snapping at it. The terrified cat is trying to kill me so it can free itself and run away. I’m screaming for Taylor in what must have been a blood curdling tone as the cat is sinking its sharp teeth repeatedly into my ring finger, neck, and shoulder and clawing away at my face and hands. I find my way out to the garage with Kula close on my heels, Tay comes running from around the corner of the house and tries to assess the situation, probably wondering where the axe murderer I’m screaming about went. He grabs the dog, I peel the cat off of my face and throw it away from me, I crumple in a ball, still screaming and bleeding, and Kula is wagging her tail like she just had the best time of her life.
Immediately, my ring finger began to swell double its size. We called a friend who’s an ER doctor to ask what we should do. “Come in right away,” he said. “60% of cat bites lead to infection.”
At the ER, we finally got through triage and saw a doctor who barely glanced at my now-purple finger. “Those rings need to come off immediately,” he said, indicating my wedding rings. Apparently the cat had punctured a blood vessel. We asked if the rings could be saved. He shrugged and disappeared. An hour later, I was given an ice bucket and was instructed to soak my hand in it. An hour after that, the pain was excruciating and the swelling was not going down. “Just cut them off,” I said to a concerned nurse. “I told you you not to buy me diamonds,” I told Taylor.
I was given a tetanus shot in my shoulder, a horribly painful shot of some antibiotic in my right buttock, and a horse pill to swallow as another nurse began to saw away at my wedding band with a small dull drummel. It took about another hour to get through both my engagement ring and my wedding band. The nurses took turns, while others came down the hall just to see it.
Tay and I finally left the ER just before 2 a.m. with a specimen cup containing the remnants of my rings, a few percocets, and a prescription for more antibiotics. Today, my finger is blue and swollen and hot and I type with 8 fingers because the pinky finger of my other hand has a puncture wound that went through the finger nail from one of the kitty’s claws.
I still can’t believe what happened. And I hope that poor kitty is okay.