Maladroitness on a Domestic Level

I cut my left forefinger yesterday while I was fixing my lunch. I sliced it pretty badly, and it looks quite gruesome. Poor Ken caught a glimpse of it this morning while I was changing the bloody bandage--he got a little weak in the knees. The slice looks like a bass clef, which is appropriate since it's on my left hand. No sense in doing things backwards.

• How do we know when something is too serious to take care of it ourselves?
• How do we know when we should admit we need help?
• How do we know when we are being brave or just plain stupid?

I figure since I didn't cut down towards the bone it couldn't be that bad...could it? I had a devil of a time trying to stem the flow of blood though--even overnight, but it has since stopped bleeding. I'm hoping it looks worse than it is. Ken keeps saying to go get it looked at. No, I'll take care of it myself.

Am I right in thinking this injury is not too serious? I really only fear an infection, but thankfully God has blessed me with good health and a shipshape immune system--and the prudence to acquire first aid skills. That should be enough.

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How can the human body be so strong yet so fragile? Our skin takes such a beating every day and in so many ways. Why do I have to add to my poor skin's daily trials and tribulations with such clumsiness?

I think I'll stay away from the knives for a while.