The Ring

So Friday night finds me hanging with my pals at the local dive. The recently engaged Donhollironi leans over and asked Kelbelle to get a look at the setting of her wedding ring. As happens with girls sometimes, the rings were all off within seconds and rotating to different hands in order to admire them properly. I find myself at the end wearing Kelbelle's ring, and she tells me to keep it on and see if her husband notices when he arrives.

A couple of hours later, no sign of darling husband, and the too small for me ring has caused my finger to swell slightly (and the beer probably didn't help matters.) I decide to take the ring off, but my knuckle had other ideas. Just pull it off my pals tell me with exasperation. I am trying, I try to convince them as I tug at the ring, lubricating my finger with hand lotion and dish soap. The damn thing won't come off. By this time, Kelbelle is nearing panic. I decide to go home with her, knowing that my finger will return to normal size in the morning, I can just slip it off and return it without darling husband ever knowing.

6:30 am Saturday morning. Kelbelle comes in my room and we assess the finger. It is now VERY swollen and red. We again try different tactics: lotion, dishsoap, glass cleaner - you name it. By this time darling husband is awake. I call the advice nurse at Kaiser who tells us to try something crazy with dental floss, and that if that doesn't work, we need to go to emergency and have the ring cut off. Oh dear.

Well, needless to say, the three of us are off to the emergency room a short while later. Darling husband says two things: We are not cutting the ring off (at which point I say a fond farewell to my finger) and Silly girls (with a shake of his head.)

No one at the hospital can quite understand why I am wearing my girlfriend's wedding ring. Tragic spinster, I say, and the females nod sympathetically. First, they ask me to place my hand in a bucket of ice for 20 minutes. No way, I say, a little panicky. Oh, yes, they say firmly. I do it, all the while feeling like my hand was going to fall off. Next, two docs and a nurse come in and get to work. They thread a piece of string through one end of the ring, and wrap the other side tightly around my finger, leaving no spaces. This causes my knuckle and other soft tissue to bulge up like a balloon. They then unwind the side of the string that went through the ring, causing the ring to begin screwing off. When they got to the end of the string, they pull it though the ring and repeat the process. After the first time, my ballooning knuckle began to hurt, and they gave my two shots of lidocaine in my finger. At this point, I feel absolutely no pain and watch with extreme interest as they work the ring over my knuckle with the string. I catch a glimpse of the tip of my finger and ask "Does it concern anyone that the tip of my finger is discolored?" (Which was an understatement, seeing as it was completely gray.) It seemed to concern no one, and at that precise moment the ring popped off my finger with a flourish.

We all cheered and then looked at my numbed up finger. It was bright red, and maybe twice it's normal size. There was a little scabbing on the side, and you could see the two places the shot went in - it looked like I had been bitten by a snake. In fact, I may go with that story from now on, which is reminiscent of Lars' shark bite story.

We left victoriously, and Kelbelle and Darling husband took me out to breakfast. Moral of the story? Never...oh, never mind.

Fire at will, people. Fire at will.