The other night while baking some garlic bread for supper, the smoke alarm went off. It is a really annoying one, in the hallway, not even near the stove and it goes off for no apparent reason at all. Frequently!
There was no smoke. I grabbed a kitchen towel and waved at the smoke detector with it. It stopped beeping. About the time I got to the stove the alarm started up again. Damn! Waved again. Stopped again.
Half a minute later, the alarm again! Derek finally pried himself away from his Lord of the Rings game long enough to quip “You’re supposed to take the stuff out of the oven before the smoke detector goes off!” Ha, ha! Very funny.
This time I decided to just take the bread out of the oven. It wasn’t really even crispy on the edges yet. Where were the potholders? Who knows? I grabbed a couple of dish cloths and folded them in my hand to grab the cookie sheet with. As I was taking the pan out (the alarm didn’t bother going off again with the oven door open) it twisted just enough so that my fingers slid onto the single layer of dish cloth. I immediately felt the excessive heat and knew I should just drop it back on the rack, but NO, I put it up onto the top of the stove anyway. Yep! Burned my fingers. On my right hand, too. Derek said, “Ma! They make potholders for that!” No kidding.
I ran cold water over my fingertips for quite a while. They still hurt. Great. I didn’t have any ice because I threw out the ice cube trays recently since they smelled like old freezer. Of course. I was eyeing the bags of frozen food and trying to decide which one I wanted to sacrifice for my fingers. I decided my fingers would have to make do with a cold can of soda.
I got the rest of the supper done and sat down to eat with Derek. It wasn’t too bad eating mashed potatoes and garlic bread (not quite crispy) with my left hand but taking the fingers off the can of soda for 15 seconds to cut my steak cause them to feel like they were going to explode I had to cut quickly and get the fingers right back on the can.
I must have burned them really badly for the amount of pain I was experiencing. On the can, fine. Off the can, flames of hell. They were really red, but I couldn’t see any blistering. Yet.
I finished up supper and sat down to my computer with a fresh, cold soda can. There was Dana, online. I told him about my poor, decimated fingers. He said I should sue the makers of the oven for not having a warning label. CAUTION! CONTENTS OF OVEN MAY BE HOT! Another comedian. I’ve always been a believer that we should take the warning labels off everything and let the problem rectify itself!
Typing the messages to Dana was slow. My fingers were killing me! I had to type for a few seconds and get the fingers back on the can. I’ve tried hunt and peck. I can’t find the letters that way. I need all my fingers. Finally, I decided to put an end to this silly burned finger stuff. I took my fingers off the can, I looked at my fingertips and said to my fingers, “You can stop hurting me now. I know that you are burned, but I have done everthing I can do for now. There is no need to remind me that my fingers need attention.” Yep! I gave my fingers a lecture. The pain stopped. No more soda can.
I told Dana I had fixed my fingers. I told him how. He said, “MA! You’re a NUT!!!!” Yes, I know. But it worked. That was two days ago. Today my fingers show no sign that they had been burned and they did not cause me any more pain after I told them to stop.
I am a firm believer that your mind has an enormous amount of power over your health. If you believe you are “catching something” you search within yourself for signs that you are correct and your mind obliges you by producing an illness. The opposite is also true. Picture yourself well. Believe it, and it will be so.