#9: I Pulled a Toenail Before

I used to pride myself in being tough, especially to blood and gore and pain. I freaked out some of my friends because I told them how I had my victory over pain by being able to pull a whole dead toenail. Even when I was still a kid, I didn't ever cry over a wound, even if all that is left of my knee are debris and bleeding flesh. Knives cut through my fingers at least thrice a year. I even accidentally/ stupidly cut myself with a blade because I slid it over my thumb, testing if it was really sharp. Oh yes, you bet it was sharp.

And again in all those times, I didn't cry.

I guess bitterness and pride and a constant exposure to other pains the eye can't see makes the visible ones easier for me. I even suspected that my mild masochism during my confused teen years sprang from a desire to flood my inner pains with the physical so even just for 4 seconds or so, all my mind will register is the throbbing of my nerve endings.

Now don't go thinking I am a sickoEalthough I can't blame you. I just said that because earlier, I realized something changed. I was preparing the ingredients for our Ginisang Mongo dinner. I've chopped up the garlic, onions, tomatoes, ginger when I realized I haven't thawed the pork yet. I took it out of the freezer and obviously, it was rock hard. Thanks to my home-TV-shopping serrated knife, I sawed off the chunks little by little. I was doing my last slice whenEo:p>

KRRRRRRG! Uh-ohEo:p>

I sawed off half my thumb knuckle. Freakazoid! I held my breath for a second, waiting for it to sink in. Usually, I get startled and then while the wound is still numb, I'd go to the sink right away to wash it, steeling myself against any sudden pangs caused by the water and the germicidal soap. But earlier, there was no numbing! It was painful right away, as in s**t!

"Baby, nahiwa ako."

I went to the sink and man! *%&#@! I was trembling by the time I finished washing, if you can call it that since I can't even touch it. I also noticed that I was breathing in gasps. I had to remind myself to breathe well. I was on the verge of tears when I thought to myself "Mighty Anne ain't no wimp! She never ever cries over some sissy cut!" I Inhaled deeply, blinking my tears away. My husband took a really cute pink Sanrio band-aid (the one with this dog and cat taking a nap together). When I held out my thumb to him, that was the only time I saw my thumb bleeding really bad, while sending waves of pain on my whole hand.

"Wipe off the blood first," he says. Weakly, I dab the edge of my violet cotton shirt on it. (Wahahaha! This bit is totally hilarious for meE Then would you believe? I started to black out! My sight got dark and I feel like I'm running out of air! I had to drop on the nearest chair and while I was slumped clumsily, I started letting out sobs, just like a whimpering dog! A part of me was getting red out of embarrassment from myself.

"Sheesh Anne, how pathetic can you get?!?"

"Esob*"

"Oh please, get out of my sight, you are making me sick."

"*Sniff* Why don't YOU get out of my sight? I'm trying to breathe here!"

Obnoxious, masochistic Anne leaves in disgust. Wimpy Anne is left with her concerned husband.

Yeah, come to think of it, I cry a lot lately. Remember the entry "A Moose Made Me Cry"? I also cried there. I wondered why. Then I figured, maybe it's because the Lord has already spanked me often enough to learn that my former tough, strong-hearted, self-sufficient being is not sufficient at all. Only when I become defenseless do I open myself up to be loved and nurtured by others. Why would anyone help you if you think you're not helpless? How can someone wipe your tears if you don't know how to cry? It's only when you accept weakness that someone stronger will be able to stand in for you.

Then in between sobs I said, "I think you made me into a woman." He just smiled while he was wiping my face.

 ... For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Cor. 12:10b