trauma

once upon a time, my husband bought me a beautiful blue topaz ring from macy’s. he gave it to me for Christmas. or for my birthday. or for both. it’s hard to say. the two holidays are so close together that they sometimes merge. and that year, he had other birthday/Christmas surprises for me, so he kept switching the ring back and forth so one holiday wouldn’t be more crazy good than the other.

(i still have it. it looks a lot like this.

then one day (this morning), i was washing my hands after a brief appearance in the lavatory. i grabbed a couple of paper towels, made use of them, and dropped them into the trash receptacle.

about this time, my co-worker walked in. i remarked on the absolute loveliness of her cardigan. she thanked me. then, and this must have been divine intervention, i looked down. and gasped.

the stone was gone.

oh. my. heavenly. day.

did it fall out and get flushed down the toilet? i would have seen it, i assured myself. i am so used to the “high efficiency” toilets in our restroom being too efficient to handle even the simplest of jobs (ahem) that i habitually stand guard until i’m satisfied.

did it get washed down the sink? no. the drain cover looks basically like this and would not have allowed passage.

where could it be?

i checked around the toilet. again.

then it hit me.

the paper towels must have gotten a little greedy.

i walked over to the in-wall trash receptacle and reached in. first, i pulled out the very paper towels i had just dropped in, hoping my gem would be tucked away in one of the damp folds.

no luck.

i reached deeper and pulled out all of the paper towels. thankfully, it was still early in the day and not many had happened that way yet.

still no luck.

a stroke of genius. i would just pull the bag out from its bottom (does that make sense?) and see if i spied any blue sparkliness.

what i found at the bottom of the bag horrified me. i am scarred. i shudder at the memory.

something i can best describe as like unto a raw scrambled egg (with part of the yolk removed before scrambled) lurked down there. somewhere in my silly little brain i thought i could somehow avoid contact with the unknown slimy substance.

and that’s when i saw it. the stone for which i searched. there in the middle of that goop.

(side note: why don’t i carry rubber gloves with me at all times?)

i grabbed a few paper towels and reached in, hoping against hope that i could grab it and get out before the paper towels were soaked.

no luck.

i gagged and groaned and moaned. my co-worker called out encouraging words. i persevered.

and finally. luck.

i had obtained my prize. which now, along with my hands, needed a good washing.

i used lots and lots of soap. scrubbed and scrubbed. until i was satisfied that i had no more “egg” on me.

and now – excepting for the scarring and potential for ptsd – i am whole and hopeful again. my ring can be made like new.

anyone know of a good jeweler who can re-set the stone in my ring? i don’t think i’ll be taking my co-worker’s suggestion to use super glue.

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4 Responses to trauma

  1. Jessica says:

    I am so glad you found the stone, especially since it is so beautiful!

    Gross. Gross. Gross. What the heck is going on at your work? And why was it in the trashcan?

    Brave Soul.

  2. VA says:

    oh my word so glad you found it!!! I love that ring!

  3. Carol Schiess says:

    Reminds me of the story of the guy who dropped a quarter down the outhouse hole. Well, he then threw down a fiver ($5-dollar bill). When asked why on earth, he said, “There’s no way I’d go down there for a quarter.”

  4. Emilie Ahern says:

    I may also have PTSD just from reading that story.

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