On Friday night I was making pizza for dinner and I could not find my sifter for the flour. I rummaged around the cabinet and all of a sudden I found my mandolin slicer! Or rather my finger found it. Blood was everywhere! I wrapped it in a paper towel figuring it would stop bleeding soon but no, it bleed, and bleed, and bleed. I finally got my husband to wrap a paper towel around it and secure it with electrical tape so that there was constant pressure on the wound in hope it would finally stop enough that I could survey the damage.
Undaunted, I went on to knead the pizza dough with my uninjured hand. Not an easy feat. By this time the yeast was so bloomed I thought it would be no good. The pizza turned out okay but the dough was a little tough. With all this going on, it was getting later and later and I really didn't have time to have it rise. But I discovered that regardless, the crust was quite flat - a little thick, but flat never the less. It was supposed to be a flat bread pizza after all!
Having an injured index finger on your dominant hand is annoying. One soon learns how many things are a challenge with that finger out of commission. Take typing for just one example A lot of mistakes for sure. But it is teaching me to slow down a bit and be careful where I place my hands. The human brain is a wonderful thing, even mine which I am sure is short a few dozen neurons, and after a while, typing gets better. One learns to adapt. That's the moral of this story that all things heal and we find ways to do things that need to be doing. For me, I found a recipe for pizza dough with no yeast. It's much quicker. I also found a new place for my mandolin - out of the way of delicate fingers.