A Rabbit Tale
June 3, 2003
Sit right back, I'm going to tell you a story of a night a few years past...
I had gone out drinking with a few friends to a local pub. We were celebrating the fact that we were old enough to celebrate, and also it was "dollar night". I can't count exactly how many drinks I had that night, but considering that I don't tip and my friends are very generous, the $12 missing from my wallet indicate that I had...too many.
The four of us began the walk home at 2 am (bartime in Wisconsin) and hadn't gotten far when I noticed some rabbits frolicking in the distance. Without a second thought (or a first, really), I started chasing a rabbit across a giant parking lot. As I began nearing the end of the parking lot, and the small hill and river on the other side, I slowed up, disgusted by the fact that I couldn't catch the little guy.
As I was walking back to the group and catching my breath, I caught a glimpse of a second rabbit out of the corner of my eye and immediately went after it.
Because of my drunkenness (helpful) and the sandals on my feet, which are about two sizes too large (equally helpful), I fell. Hard. On my face. I laid there for a minute watching the rabbit bounce away and laughing at my own lack of self-respect. Then the group caught up to me and I began to get up. It was at this time that someone in my entourage noticed a little spot of blood on the sidewalk.
We kept on trekking home, all the while joking about the rabbits (you may have won this battle...) and talking about whether or not I need medical attention. I shrugged it off - to me, the bleeding was only because of the alcohol-thinned blood. Yet my friends kept after me to go to the hospital. "Nah," I said.
During our seemingly endless walk home, we were stopped by a police officer who ALSO wanted to take me to a doctor. Again, I said, "Nah." When the cop wouldn't take the hint that I'm a stubborn bastard, I reminded him that we had met before and he had pronounced my name incorrectly. And then to add insult to injury (namely my bleeding face), I told him to "fuck off" and he finally sped away. We kept on walking.
Finally I reached my home and left my friends to their own accord. I retired to the couch, convinced that I could stay awake long enough to make the bleeding stop. This was not the case, as I awoke a few hours later still with a bloody rag held to my face. I was still bleeding. So I did what any normal college-aged male would do...I got into bed and tried to sleep it off.
When I finally got out of bed the next day, I was quickly reminded of my escapades by the bloody pillowcase. I quickly moved to the bathroom where I could inspect my wound in a sober, well-lit fashion. However, when I got there, I found that I was still bleeding. So, again, I did what any normal college-aged male would do...I took a shower. After cleaning my whole body and reinspecting the gash in my chin, I found that, to my chagrin, I was still bleeding.
Finally, I began to think about heading over to the hospital. It was now nearly 3 pm, 13 hours after the initial injury. I sat in the waiting room for a while before the nurse asked me a few questions. She wanted to know how I got the injury, when I got the injury and why I'm such an idiot. I couldn't help but notice that she was holding back a giggle about my moronic behavior. It took some convincing, but I did tell her that it was okay to laugh. She maintained that a "professional" wouldn't do that, but then admitted that it was a pretty funny story.
Note to self: mission accomplished.
The nurse did give me some information about the normal procedure for stitches - that basically meant I wouldn't get them. Apparently after about six hours, a wound begins to heal itself, so putting stitches in a hole, like the new one in my face, was only going to develop a huge, ugly scar. I went in to see the doctor anyway. You never know when you'll get a lollipop.
When the doctor finally entered my examination room, he took one look at me and ordered stitches.
Not bad, I'd say. Sure, it was 14 hours of bleeding, four stitches in my face, and a bill for $310, but the story alone was worth the effort.
Posted by dennis @ 08:31 PM