And That Was My Hand...

By Jen Lewis

So, it was a nice Wednesday morning... I was going to make myself an egg, and cut myself a piece of toast. Read that sentence again, and take out "a piece of toast." YUP. 

I sliced the bread in a super ridiculous way, standing over the sink, holding the bread in my hand and cutting down. Into my hand. With a huge, sharp, serrated knife. Not a good plan, folks. It went deep into my skin, and blood started gushing right away. (Everyone wants all the details, right? Pleasant?)

I got blood all over the kitchen floor before I got a paper towel and squeezed my hand super tight. The cut was just below the crease under and to the left of my index finger on my left hand, and only went to the start of my middle finger. But it was deeeeeeeeeep. And when I checked to see if the bleeding had stopped, it just started gushing again. 

Thankfully, I have a nurse as my roommate over here, so we wrapped up my hand real good, and all seemed well. Later that day, though, I kept looking at the cut and it looked ickkkkkkky. Super nasty. And Daniellian was worried about it not healing right, because the edges of my skin weren't lining up right. 

SO... I got stitches. Jackie took me in to the clinic, and I got six (ish?) stitches in my left hand. 900Dh later, we walked out of the office, with a bandaged and stitched up hand. Very pleasant. 

And here come pictures... ickiness is in the second, so ye be warned! 



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