I'm not sure if I'll ever eat again

I had my finger inside a patient's foot today.

Yes. INSIDE. In a gaping wound that was oozing pus. I stuck my finger inside a patient's foot AND HIT BONE. My preceptor kept telling me to stop being such a weenie and squeeze it harder. *hork*

I was going to come home and make some delicious food, like fresh rolls and egg salad for sammiches, or lime meltaway cookies. Problem is, every time I head for the kitchen, the only image that pops into my head is the oozing hole. This is not conducive to cooking. Or eating.

A few days ago, though, I made steamed pork dumplings. And had to face one of my weaknesses. If I were a cookery-themed super hero, this would be my greatest nemesis - secondary only to that bastard lemon.


Oh, don't laugh at me. You know those murderous tubes of dough strike fear into the hearts of the strongest men. Beowulf would hesitate before opening one of these monsters. I followed the instructions on the tube exactly - unpeel paper. Press on seam with spoon. Nothing happened.

AND THEN IT EXPLODED OFF THE COUNTER AT MY FACE.

Look. Look into the doughy face of EVIL.

If it had teeth, they would have latched into my jugular.




Anyway, I flattened out the individual rolls, filled them with a mixture of ground pork, water chestnuts, spring onions, and spices, then stuck them in a cobbled together steamer. I should probably invest in a real steamer, because while my tin foil on a pot worked, the dumplings ended up stuck together.

I can't eat the leftovers tonight, though. because my brain has been forever scarred by the fact that I had my FINGER IN A FOOT TODAY.

And here I went to pharmacy school because I didn't want to touch people.