I have gotten stitches twice in my life, and the first time didn't count. The first happened when I got my appendix removed when I was almost 12 years old.
The second time, or rather, the first real time, the story is far more boring than I could have ever expected! And let me tell you why.
I have recently become addicted to Ultimate Frisbee. I'm not very good, but I am pretty vicious. I have been known to "tackle" which really isn't dangerous for the people I tackle, 'cuz they're usually boys that are bigger than me. (Barring one time when a boy broke his hand after a collision with me and another kid.... anyway...) I thought that if I were to injure myself the place would be on the Frisbee field. I knew there would be a cool story, and at least the people who were around would be able to see how cool it was!
BUT NO. When I get hurt, it's doing something normal and boring.
It was a regular Saturday, I had a few minutes to kill before I went to work, and I decided I would do the dishes before I left.
I started to put the cups away, and shut the cupboard door after I put in the last cup. It was a ceramic Christmas mug- the likes of which I had only recently begun to appreciate. I placed it on the shelf without looking, and shut the door.
But the cupboard door didn't shut, and the cup fell onto the counter! I rushed to it to clean it up, and took the largest piece and shoved it in the trash. I was a little too hasty 'cuz I ended up cutting my thumb really deeply. Halt the cleanup!
I started to take care of it, and my mum went to ask my dad to come look at it to see if I needed stitches. Stitches?!?! I was going to be late for work if I didn't leave soon, how could I even need stitches?
To add to that stress, as soon as it stopped bleeding my friend called to ask me to do a favor for him... nice timing.
I ended up leaving for work, shortly after it stopped bleeding, and working all day with a fatty bandaid on my thumb. I didn't think much of it, but I knew it would take a while to get better.
Later that night my mom and I were waiting for my dad and brother to come home from watching the BYU/Oklahoma game (go Cougs!) anyway, we were wondering what was taking them so long, and when they finally returned my dad told me he had seen our old bishop, a PA, at the store, so they had stopped to talk. My dad thought about my thumb and asked him about it- and he said to bring me over so he could look at it. So we headed up to see Dr. Abram and his wife, Nurse Jean Abram.
He looked at it, pulled it apart a bit to see how deep it was, and said that if I had gone into the clinic there would be no question they'd just sew it up! So I had to get sewn up!
I sat at the kitchen table of my old bishop, with his daughter sitting on his one side, ready to open packets and other small jobs for him, his wife moving around, and mostly showing me, "it could be worse" pictures, their one little girl watching "The Parent Trap" with Lindsey Lohan, my dad next to me, and me, getting a numbing shot and stitches and quoting the parent trap.
I lived through it, although I was absolutely fascinated by the feeling that goes along with stitches, even though I had been numbed (woah- weird), and got a big blue bandage wrapped around my thumb and a little bit around my wrist. This left my hand in a semi-permanent "thumbs-up" position, and looking damaged. That was no help for being inconspicuous about it at church!
When all the people at church asked me how I hurt my thumb, I kept trying to tell them I hurt it playing Frisbee, and that was believeable, but then I would tell them this, the true story.
The moral of the story is, if you're going to hurt your hand, don't do it while you're doing dishes, do it while you're tackling seven guys on the ultimate field, catch the frisbee in the toss-up, while everyone's down, and launch it to your team-mate in the endzone. That is how I wish to have broken my hand.
The second time, or rather, the first real time, the story is far more boring than I could have ever expected! And let me tell you why.
I have recently become addicted to Ultimate Frisbee. I'm not very good, but I am pretty vicious. I have been known to "tackle" which really isn't dangerous for the people I tackle, 'cuz they're usually boys that are bigger than me. (Barring one time when a boy broke his hand after a collision with me and another kid.... anyway...) I thought that if I were to injure myself the place would be on the Frisbee field. I knew there would be a cool story, and at least the people who were around would be able to see how cool it was!
BUT NO. When I get hurt, it's doing something normal and boring.
It was a regular Saturday, I had a few minutes to kill before I went to work, and I decided I would do the dishes before I left.
I started to put the cups away, and shut the cupboard door after I put in the last cup. It was a ceramic Christmas mug- the likes of which I had only recently begun to appreciate. I placed it on the shelf without looking, and shut the door.
But the cupboard door didn't shut, and the cup fell onto the counter! I rushed to it to clean it up, and took the largest piece and shoved it in the trash. I was a little too hasty 'cuz I ended up cutting my thumb really deeply. Halt the cleanup!
I started to take care of it, and my mum went to ask my dad to come look at it to see if I needed stitches. Stitches?!?! I was going to be late for work if I didn't leave soon, how could I even need stitches?
To add to that stress, as soon as it stopped bleeding my friend called to ask me to do a favor for him... nice timing.
I ended up leaving for work, shortly after it stopped bleeding, and working all day with a fatty bandaid on my thumb. I didn't think much of it, but I knew it would take a while to get better.
Later that night my mom and I were waiting for my dad and brother to come home from watching the BYU/Oklahoma game (go Cougs!) anyway, we were wondering what was taking them so long, and when they finally returned my dad told me he had seen our old bishop, a PA, at the store, so they had stopped to talk. My dad thought about my thumb and asked him about it- and he said to bring me over so he could look at it. So we headed up to see Dr. Abram and his wife, Nurse Jean Abram.
He looked at it, pulled it apart a bit to see how deep it was, and said that if I had gone into the clinic there would be no question they'd just sew it up! So I had to get sewn up!
I sat at the kitchen table of my old bishop, with his daughter sitting on his one side, ready to open packets and other small jobs for him, his wife moving around, and mostly showing me, "it could be worse" pictures, their one little girl watching "The Parent Trap" with Lindsey Lohan, my dad next to me, and me, getting a numbing shot and stitches and quoting the parent trap.
I lived through it, although I was absolutely fascinated by the feeling that goes along with stitches, even though I had been numbed (woah- weird), and got a big blue bandage wrapped around my thumb and a little bit around my wrist. This left my hand in a semi-permanent "thumbs-up" position, and looking damaged. That was no help for being inconspicuous about it at church!
When all the people at church asked me how I hurt my thumb, I kept trying to tell them I hurt it playing Frisbee, and that was believeable, but then I would tell them this, the true story.
The moral of the story is, if you're going to hurt your hand, don't do it while you're doing dishes, do it while you're tackling seven guys on the ultimate field, catch the frisbee in the toss-up, while everyone's down, and launch it to your team-mate in the endzone. That is how I wish to have broken my hand.
Comments
Also-- what??? They stitched you up at the kitchen table? Is that even kosher???