Monday, June 27, 2011
And there was blood everywhere...
On Sunday, I decided to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich. As I was slicing the bread, I managed to slice my thumb pretty severely. Like most people who have ever injured themselves, I began flailing around in pain, screaming at the top of my lungs, and otherwise acting like I was about to die.
As I ran to the 2nd closest sink to rinse the blood off my hand (why would I go to the kitchen sink right next to me when I could run to a sink on the other side of the apartment?), I continued to flail violently. Unbeknownst to me, my thumb was gushing blood, and as I raced across the apartment, flailing all the way, I splattered blood on the floor, the cabinets, the refrigerator, the doors, the walls, the closets, and, even though we have high ceilings, the ceiling. As my wife stated afterwards, if someone had walked in at that point, they would have been pretty convinced a stabbing had occurred. We spent a good 30 minutes cleaning up blood.
Unfortunately, when you are married to someone who (1) is a doctor and (2) has given birth, your spouse just does not have much sympathy for a small flesh wound. Her advice was pretty much: suck it up, you're not going to die from this (24 hours later, and I guess I believe her). Thankfully, the cut was not deep enough to require stitches. Eventually, the gushing blood stopped, and we were able to go about our evening. And the lesson learned: Do not flail when you are bleeding out.
P.S. Just in case you were wondering, my wife eventually finished the grilled cheese for me. It was delicious.