Interesting night. First, the Lost finale (which I kind of think I loved, just for the wonderful emotional moments); and then I dropped my chef's knife point down onto my foot, which resulted in exactly the grotesque scene you might imagine.
At least I finished watching the Lost finale first. Can you imagine how irritated I'd be if I had to go to the hospital without knowing what had happened?
I'd never seriously injured myself before and had also never been to the emergency room before, at least not as a patient. I will admit I freaked out at first, not knowing what to do, given that I was bleeding copiously, had a paper towel pressed to the wound and was trying to keep my foot elevated, and hence couldn't stand up or walk, let alone navigate getting into a cab. But I called my friend Brooke, who lives nearby, and she very kindly came over and not only helped me make it outside to a cab, but also insisted on cleaning the blood off my kitchen floor first. (I should have left it that way for when my landlord takes the apartment over. "Oh, that? I just killed someone in my kitchen one day. Hope the blood comes out! Bye!")
Long story short, I made it to the hospital without incident, and the cab driver very nicely made a U-turn to pull right up to the door, and then waited to make sure I got inside OK; and THEN a couple of paramedics who were chatting noted with concern that I was hopping/hobbling up the walk, and one of them went and fetched me a wheelchair and wheeled me inside. And I didn't have to wait that long in the waiting room, despite all the horror stories I'd heard (which was a good thing, because I realized I'd forgotten the headphones for my iPhone and had no reading material with me), and a physician's assistant named James, who looked all of 22 years old, stitched me up -- of course I was a total wuss about the whole thing, as I hate needles and pain -- and all told it took about two and a half hours, which I guess isn't too bad at all.
The only other thing I will say is that emergency rooms are, unsurprisingly, rather depressing. There was a lot of moaning going on around me. I guess people get used to that. Also? I don't think I saw a single doctor the entire time I was there. But it stands to reason that nurses and PAs would do most of the grunt work.
Well, that's that. My first emergency room visit ever! And my first stitches ever. The guy said I'd have a slight scar, which I am cool with -- I'll tell people I got in a fight and someone stabbed me in the foot. (Hey, it happens.) Oh, but one thing: That thing they say about wearing nice underwear, because the one time you don't, you might get injured and have to go to the hospital? Totally true. So, lesson learned: I will never wear ugly "eh, it's Sunday, who cares, I'll just wear this old thing" underwear again.
