**If the idea of hospitals, blood, or pictures of stitches makes you woozy, feel free to skip this blog post. You’ve been warned***
Being a teaching assistant in France has allowed me to have many “firsts”: first time traveling outside the United States, first time teaching, first time being immersed in the French language…the list goes on and on. This weekend, however, resulted in a less than fun “first” for me:
First time going to a French emergency room and getting stitches.
Yup, I had quite the eventful Friday night.
It started out so innocently. One of my amazing college roommates sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers as a Christmas present. I wanted to cut the stems to put them in a vase but, being unable to find the scissors, I decided the next best thing to use would be a ceramic knife.
My parents and my college roommates know that I have a history of living on the edge when it comes to using a knife…to put it lightly, my knife safety skills are less than stellar. Hence, my decision to cut the stems without a cutting board, while obviously not a bright move, was also not an abnormal choice for me.
Well, I was almost through cutting the stems when I sliced my bottom part of my pinky with the knife. I’ll be honest, there was a lot of blood and I was feeling pretty woozy. T, bless her heart, got out of the shower to help me clean up and sent me to find L, as he was at the school for parent meetings. From there, he escorted me to the school nurse where she told me I had to go to the ER for stitches. L very graciously drove me to the hospital and sat with me in the waiting room for two hours while I waited to see the doctor until finally, it was my turn.
When it was all said and done, I ended up with four stitches, an appointment to come back Sunday for a check-up, and a very numb pinky. It was definitely not the Friday night activity I had in mind.
Until next time,