I love my rings. I remember when Silas proposed to me up on Skinner's Butte. I had climbed up on the railing looking over the city of Eugene and Silas was standing behind me, pointing out different Eugene landmarks to me. Then he stopped talking. And I knew it was coming. I didn't want to turn around because I didn't want to ruin the moment. So I just kept staring out at Eugene.
"So." He started "I brought you out here because I wanted to ask you if you would be willing to marry me." I was bursting with joy and said yes. Then he said "I bought you a ring." I hadn't been expecting a ring. Silas was in Americorp making 11k that year. But he pulled out this little grey box and in it was the most perfect ring for me I could have imagined. I don't like wearing flashing jewelry. And I have ethical and economical issues with diamonds. But Silas had picked out a silver band with a peridot set in gold. He had bought it on Etsy and it was exactly what I wanted.
The trouble started the night of the Google Christmas party. We had gotten a babysitter for the event. I was wearing this fabulous white dress I had made. I had put up my hair. Then I looked over at my wedding rings sitting in my jewelry box. They hadn't fit me for awhile. Not since I was about 6 months pregnant, actually. And I was almost 4 months postpartum.
Right then the thought of going to the party and being introduced to all of Silas's bosses and co-workers without my rings just seemed like the worst thing in the world. So I picked up my rings and I started jamming them on my finger. I jammed. And jammed. I succeeded. Then I went and had a great time at the Christmas party which took place at the aquarium. There was an open bar.
This last piece of information might seem unnecessary. But it is, in fact, most important. And the reason it's important is that alcohol makes me swell. You know where this story is going by now. I had completely forgotten about my rings until we got home. My finger itched. I looked down. My finger was purple, folks.
I was scared to tell Silas for two reason. Firstly, because I knew he would laugh. And laugh. And laugh. And secondly, because I knew that when he realized he was going to have to take me to the ER at 12:30 am he was going to stop laughing and start pouting and giving me condescending glares (which I totally deserved, but found unpleasant all the same.)
But alas, I had no choice. I told him. And at first he was in disbelief that it was stuck. I had already tried everything to get it off. String, ice, and soap to name a few gross tricks. Silas pulled the Internet out of his pocket, did a bit of Googling, then demanded I bring him plastic wrap and olive oil. I complied and when that idea failed horribly we called up friends to ask if we could drop Gideon off for a few hours while we went to the ER.
When we arrived at the ER Silas dropped me off and went to find parking. I expected the ER on a Saturday night/Sunday morning to be crowded, but it was, in fact, quite empty. I walked around till I found a counter were someone was working and asked "Where do I sign in?" The woman looked around with a vacant expression and waved toward the other side of the room "Oh.... over there..."
I looked where she was pointing. "Ah." I said. "There was no one at that counter when I came in." There was still no one working that counter. "Oh." said the vacant woman. "Well, what do you need." I held up my hand sheepishly. "Oh." she said again. I wondered if this woman was for real or a malfunctioning Cylon. "Don't worry about signing in" she said, finally "Just have a seat in there and I'll send a nurse in.
I was in tears. I knew what was going to happen. They were going to cut my rings off. And I really, really didn't want them to. I don't consider myself to be sentimental. But when it comes to things that Silas gave me I'm plain old sappy. Silas came in from parking the car while I was waiting. He was surprised I was already in a room, which cheered him up considerably.
The nurse came in and looked at my finger. "I hate cutting off wedding bands." she said. I started to tear up. "Let me see if I can get it off." If I hadn't been so sad I would have laughed in her face. I'm pretty sure Silas was laughing on the inside. The nurse left the room for a moment and came back with ketchup packet of something. I glanced over at it while she washed her hands. It read surgical lubricant. "Oh great." I thought. "Butt gel."
The nurse took my hand squeezed the entire packet onto my finger/hand. And woo boy was that stuff slick. At first there was no movement from my ring. Then it started to spin around my finger. Progress, I thought. Then she started sliding it toward my knuckle. Pretty soon I started thinking this just might work!
Sure enough, after about two minutes of sliding around, my ring finally popped over my knuckle. I could have cried I was so happy! "Where do I need to pay?" I asked. "Oh, we didn't check you in. ER visits are so expensive and it was an easy fix." she said, clearly in a hurry to get back to other work. "You mean we can just leave?" I asked, astonished. "Yup."
So we left, sheepish, but happy, whole, and without having to fork over a ton of cash for a ketchup packet of surgical lubricant. And the good thing about this whole experience has been twofold. Firstly, I have a great story to tell at dinner parties. And second, Silas bought me a fat ring.
Also, I Googled "fat ring" to see how widespread the term was and came up with this. Ew.