Dear Universe,
thank You for not letting my fingers get amputated.
I’ve been involved in an idiotic accident. It involved a lift door and my fingers. It hurt. It looked far worse than it turned out though. I not only survived, but I kept all my fingers attached. So, thank you, Universe.
It happened as I was dragging some packages to my (landlord’s) flat on the sixth floor. I moved part of the load out the lift when the door started closing. The idea was to prevent the rest of my packages from going away with the lift and getting thieved. I thought I was a superwoman (or I just didn’t think) and stuck my fingers in the lift door, hoping the sensor would catch them and hold the door. The sensor would probably do so if there was one. Oops.
I got four out of five fingers crushed in the door nastily. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, as I was probably in shock over the pain and over my own incredible idiocy. On the superwoman note, I struggled at first, but a few minutes later I just gathered all my strength and pried the door apart. I congratulated myself on surviving myself. I could have got four fingers amputated, which would be highly awkward, you know, to type with all six fingers instead of all ten.
On the bruise I applied ice, kept it there for two hours and voila, my fingers are like new. The same evening I was already practising yogic hand stands. One would hope that I learned from my experience, but I’m apparently too dumb to learn from my dumbness because the next day I put my fingers in the lift again when demonstrating to my mother what happened. I didn’t put them in all the way though. No harm was done. Except to my dignity and sense of self-worth.