After coming to the realization that I wouldn't be able to hide the cut from everyone, I believe I uttered something along the lines of "I just cut the shit out of myself." It wasn't a blood curdling scream, it was a very matter of fact admittance that the incredibly sharp knife that I had run my mouth about all day had turned on me and caused a severe injury. Just when I thought that the terminator and I were going to be the best of friends, him always being clipped on my belt, and me ensuring that his needs to terminate were met. I should have known that a cyborg would not be capable of such companionship.
After dripping blood all over a brand new shirt that I was wearing for the first time, I needed to be able to assess the wound and in order to do that I needed to get some of the seemingly endless supply of blood pouring out of my thumb out of the way. So with the help of some friends who had full use of both of their opposable thumbs, I made my way over to the garden hose and washed of the blood. Little did I know that this would result in the blood going away for roughly one tenth of a second. As soon as the water stream was taken away from my thumb, the massive quantity of blood that had been there before was back with a vengeance. Given the amount of blood that continued to pour from my injured digit, and the depth of the cut that I managed to determine in the incredibly brief window that I was able to view it, I now knew that medical attention would have to be sought.
Whomever is responsible for the operation of what seemed to be the only urgent care in Brevard seems to me to have a poor understanding of the urgent care system. Most of the urgent care's that I have been to have hours that extend past what a regular doctor's office does so that if something come's up, the average working joe who is at work during regular business hours can seek medical attention. This particular establishment was open Monday through Friday nine to three. Then on Saturday it was only open nine to one. So the lesson here is, when in Brevard have your non life threatening injuries or illnesses occur in that limited set of hours, or else you're heading to the emergency room.
This injury marked only the second time that I had been on the wrong side of a hospital bed. The first being the pee out of my butt watered down diarrhea shitfest in Peru. This time at least all of my providers spoke English so I could be a little more involved in my treatment. Thankfully this was not a bustling metropolitan hospital and when I arrived in the emergency room, there were only two people in front of me. On arrival, it occurred to me that I had been into the cups when I did this to myself and that I didn't want the doctor to come into the room and smell booze on me. I didn't want to be the cliche alcohol related injury that I'm sure provides the bulk of many emergency rooms' business. But, who was I kidding, I was the cliche. Even though I was the cliche, I still chewed some gum in the waiting room to mask the alcohol scent on my breath. It wasn't a casual chewing of the gum either, I smacked it to release as much of the flavor and juices of the gum as possible, and I constantly swept my tongue with it to maximize the masking effects of the gum. As I finish that sentence I realize I'm out of room again, so tune in next week (maybe sooner) same bat time, same bat channel.
No comments:
Post a Comment