Here's hoping it doesn't leave a scar

I have two cats, and I really do love them...most of the time. Yesterday afternoon Sid was not at his most lovable.

I wrote in an earlier post (Funny Feline Friends) that Sid is a cuddler. He doesn't want to sit next to you, he wants to sit on you. Most of the time I love that. Especially because Zoe does not really like to cuddle. Sometimes I hate it. Yesterday was one of those days.

We've had pretty rotten weather lately, and yesterday was no exception. The snow all melted, and it was beginning to warm up so the wind picked up. I've never lived in a place as windy as the Tri-Cities. Yesterday, though, was especially windy and we have a huge tree in our backyard.

When I got home, I took off my school clothes and got into comfy pjs. I went to the living room to sit down and watch some television. (I always need an hour or so to decompress after a long day at school.) Things were going well. Sid and I snuggled down with the down blanket, and got ready to watch an episode of Dirty Jobs. Then something happened. I still couldn't tell you what. My best guess is that there was a gust of wind that blew a branch into the window, or onto the roof and it made a noise that startled Sid. All I know is that the cat FREAKED out, and desperately tried to claw his way off my lap. Unfortunately, he didn't realize that I was not holding him, he was just sitting there. I say unfortunately because his claws ALL made contact with me. Several of them made contact with my face. I'm sure I screamed, but I can't tell you really what the order of events was. I was just sitting there, and then I was in a lot of pain. I immediately started to cry, and then my face started to hurt.

I felt something dripping off my nose and my chin, and assumed it was tears. But then I looked down and saw...oh my goodness...I felt faint...I saw blood - and a LOT of it. It was literally dripping off my face.

Now, I like to think of myself as a calm and rational person, but I'll let you in on a secret: yesterday I was NOT calm, and I was NOT rational. I cupped my hands under my chin and went running for the bathroom sink and mirror. I was not prepared for what I saw. My face was bleeding profusely from three distinct areas: two under my right eye, and my nose. I turned on the water, rinsed my hands, left the water running, and dashed into the hall to grab a washcloth from the closet (I only have "nice" white towels in the bathroom for guests - not blood), and into the kitchen for the phone. Then it was back to the bathroom before I made a mess of myself and my house.

I picked up the phone and tried to call J. No answer. I tried again, and again, no answer. By this point I was still crying and hyperventilating a little, so who else do you call when you're panicking? Yup, I am nearly 30 years old, and I called my mom. The phone rang...and rang...and rang...then I think her voicemail picked up, but I never heard the beep to talk, so I just sat there crying hysterically until I gave up and hung up without saying a word. Then I tried J again. Still no answer. (FYI: My mom called me back at 10:20p.m. to see what was wrong, and to tell me she nearly had a panic attack when she listened to a phone message of one of her girls crying hysterically. She had no idea which one of us it was, and was freaked out thinking something horrible had happened. I guess her voicemail did beep...I probably missed it when I was wiping blood off my face and feeling sorry for myself and crying hysterically. Sorry, Mom.)

That's when I got really desperate. I tried to calm down, and then I dialed my step-dad, John. Now, you have to know John to know how desperate I really was to call him in a medical emergency. He's a great guy, but ever since I was little, he usually has let my mom handle any and all crises. (And by usually, I mean always.) The phone rang...and rang...then the voice mail picked up. You've got to be kidding. At this point I was seriously contemplating a trip to the emergency room because the bleeding was not slowing down, and I thought I may need a stitch or two under my eye. I know I was still not totally calm because running through my head was "Crap. How in the heck am I going to get my bra on and get dressed with one hand holding a compress to my face? I can't be seen in public without a bra! What if I run into one of my students?!?!" Well, honestly, who cares?

I was rinsing out the washcloth and getting it wet again to put it back on my face when the phone rang. I took a few deep breaths and answered. It was John.

John: "Hey, what's up?"

Me: (In a relatively calm, yet wavering voice.) "Um, well, I was just wondering where Mom was?"

John: "She's at school. She's got class tonight and won't be done until 10. Why? What's up?"

Me: (All in one breath and crying hysterically again) "Because Sid scratched me on the face and I think I may need stitches, and I can't get ahold of Jess and then Mom didn't answer and I'm all alone and I'm bleeding A LOT and I'm in pajamas and I don't know what to doooooo!!!"

John: "I want you to take a deep breath and calm down....okay, now tell me again what happened?"

Me: (A little calmer, but still verging on hysteria.) "I was sitting on the chair and Sid was on my lap, and then something scared him, and, I know he didn't mean to, but he jumped out of my arms and scratched my face. I'm bleeding all over, and it's not slowing down."

John: "Okay. I want you to get ahold of yourself, and then go to the Urgent Care or the Emergency Room. They'll help you get it cleaned up, and they can tell you if you need stitches or not. I don't want you to wait for your mom or J if you need to have something done now. Can you do that? Can you drive yourself to the Urgent Care?"

Me: "I think so. I'm not wearing a bra, though."

John: "Well, go get dressed. Then go to the Urgent Care and call me when you get there, okay?"

Me: "Okay. Thank you."

The conversation helped calm me down a bit, and when I got off the phone I took a closer look at my face. I had a deep scratch under my eye, but it looked like the edges would still meet when it stopped bleeding. My nose was really sore, and there was blood on both the inside and the outside. I could see the scratch on the outside, and I couldn't tell for sure, but I thought there was a cut on the inside, too. As I was deciding whether or not I was going to go to the Urgent Care, I glanced down to see how much blood was on my shirt and noticed some puncture wounds and pretty good scratches on my arm. Thank God there wasn't any dripping blood there, though. Then the phone rang. I answered, and it was my sister T. She was very calm, and said, "Okay, I want you to tell me what happened. I heard John telling you to go to the Urgent Care."

I took a deep breath and then freaked out again. I tried to tell her through my tears, and she interrupted me. She made me take some deep breaths and then had the nerve to criticize me. She said I wasn't breathing out enough. I was SO grateful for her calming tone, but at the same time, in the back of my head, I was giggling to myself. She is a nursing student, and has just completed her second week of class. She was already doing phone triage stuff!

Anyway, T got me calmed down and gave me step by step instructions for washing, then told me to call her back when I was done. I knew I needed to use soap and wash all of the scratches, but apparently I needed someone to tell me to do it because I still hadn't. I asked her which soap I should use: Country Apple or Harvest Peach. They're both anti-bacterial, but one is a foaming soap and one was a lotion soap. (She chose foaming Harvest Peach, in case you were wondering.) I took care of the easy ones, then called her back and asked what to do about the cuts inside my nose. Imagine my surprise when she said to put soap on my finger, and then pretend I was picking my nose. I laughed right out loud. She stayed on the line while I did it, and pointed out that at least I was going to be smelling peaches instead of regular soap. Then I had to rinse, so instead of dunking my whole head under water, I just got the corner of the wash cloth wet and stuck it up there. (For future reference, this worked really well, but I sure don't recommend getting cuts on the inside of your nose. Not really a pleasant experience overall.)

Once I did all this, T made me rinse out the wash cloth again, get it wet and cold, and then go sit down and put the cold compress on my face. She said to keep it there for 15 minutes and call her back. I spent that whole 15 minutes trying to get ahold of J with no luck. I called T back, finally calm, and finally not bleeding, and thanked her for her help. She said no problem, and we hung up.

About 14 phone calls later, J finally called me back. He was a little annoyed with me because I had been calling so much. Apparently he was in a meeting and had left his cell phone on his desk. Someone brought him his cell because it had been ringing off the hook. I burst into tears and got pissy with him. I said "Where were you? I needed you, and you weren't there!" Ouch. That wasn't very nice. True, but not very nice.

He felt bad because I was crying, and wanted to know what happened. I gave him the brief version of the story, and then said I didn't want to talk. He tried to tell me to go wash with soap and put Neosporin on my cuts. I cut him off and said it was already taken care of, and we didn't have any Neosporin. Then I all but hung up on him.

When he got home, he came bearing gifts. He handed me a bouquet of flowers on his way in the door. Then he was rustling around the kitchen for awhile. He brought me some Ben and Jerry's Creme Brulee ice cream (SO fattening, but SO good!!), some Coca-Cola in an old fashioned bottle, and a Beanie Baby teddy bear that was wearing a backpack and had "School Rocks" embroidered on his little feet. When I looked inside the backpack, there was a tube of Neosporin! How sweet! I almost forgave him...almost...

As a result of my traumatic experiences I got this:

And this:

Here's Sid checking out the gifts, wondering where his was. After all, I did yell at him. And then I cried hysterically for about half an hour. And then I did not let him climb back up into my lap. He was traumatized, too, you know.

And unfortunately I also got this:

And this:

It's hard to see the bruising, but the entire right side of my face is really sore and tender. I'm pretty sure he kicked my face with his back claws. And I decided to spare you the pictures of the scratches in my nostril and on my right breast.

Here's proof, though, that I really do love my Sid-Gato, even though his claws are dangerous. And he's a scaredy-cat.