The Food That Made Me

Kids, you don’t forget your first near-death experience. I was in elementary school. Maybe first grade. It was Mother’s Day, and my older sister, who was eight years older, and I wanted to do something nice for our mommy. My memory is kind of foggy on what we decided, but there was fresh juice involved. Carrots, celery, and more.

In order to make juice, you need a juicer. We usually used a black plastic stabber utensil to push the veggies through the machine. I didn’t find a stabber for some reason, so my first-grade self decided to use my hand. I still remember the feeling of my nails touching the blade. Welp. I messed up. There was blood in the juice, and I thought this was my short life coming to an end.

I told my sister I wanted the frozen cheesecake bites for my last meal. I ate them and waited on my deathbed. Frozen small square cheesecake bites. Delicious. This was it. While lying on the couch, my life flashed before my eyes. I had a good life.

Mommy came home and took me to the ER. Thankfully, I didn’t hit any bones, and it was just my nail on two of my fingers. My Grandma and relatives flew in from Hong Kong to see how I was doing. I remember the gauze had to be constantly changed, and the peroxide hurt when they cleaned the wound. That is when I learned that alcohol stings a lot more than peroxide.

Moral of the story: Maybe just buy your mommy some juice from Safeway, or let your older sister do all of the work.

P.S I still have some PTSD while I use a blender. Every time I am finished blending, I have to have the plug pulled. Protect those fingers!