Last night I was roasting some potatoes at 400 degrees. I opened the oven to add a pan of fish to bake during the last 15 minutes of the timer, when a ball of steam heat came out and burned my right hand. I didn’t jerk my hand back from the heat fast enough because I was afraid of dropping a whole pan of deliciously marinated pollock, so it was pretty bad.
|Not As Bad As It Looked Last Night|
As I was running cold water over my whole hand, trying not to cry from the pain, I began to freak out a little. I really really need my right hand. I play guitar, I play piano, I type all day at work, I make jewelry, I scrapbook (sometimes), and I decoupage guitars and other strange things. As it was throbbing and swelling, I was unable to bend my fingers and all I could think about was how I just received a bunch of great pendant blanks and I wouldn’t be able to work on them.
Randy is the bomb, though – he kept a cool head while I devolved into drama queen territory. He ran to CVS and hooked me up with gauze and burn cream and ice packs and dressed my hand like a combat medic. Thanks to him, my blisters are minimal and as of this morning, I can bend my fingers. DISASTER AVERTED.
This just brought home to me how important it is to me to be able to have a creative outlet, and I realized too that it isn’t exactly the finished product that does it for me. Sure, I might have a glimmer of accomplishment, but for me, the true joy is in the process. The actual “making” of whatever it is I am making. I am known to lose myself up in my studio for hours and not notice how late it’s getting. I have to tell people to come get me if I’m not downstairs by a certain time or else I could easily be up there all night.
What was driving me crazy was the thought of losing my clearest path to sanity.
I should be back up in the studio and working/playing again in a few days, and until then, I am going to take very good care of my hand.