A Rabbit, A Rock, 8 Stitches and 2 Shots

*Disclaimer: There are some potentially disturbing photos in the post below. Read at your own risk.

Let’s start with the main story of this post. As you all know, I have to run a half marathon in December because I had a really weak moment in which I thought I could actually run 13.2 miles without stopping. The girl who abhors running. Always has. Well, I decided that after going to the gym on Tuesday night that I wouldn’t run Wednesday morning. I would run Wednesday night since I was WFH (work from home) and I wouldn’t have a commute home, therefore more time. So I head out at about 7:45 or so. I cant believe Im saying this… but it wasn’t that bad. It was “cool” out, a breeze and I switched out my music so I went somewhere else for once. I was rocking it. (for me. Rocking it at my standards) I was at 2.7 miles and still didn’t hate my life so I decided I would at least get a 5k in. Just as I was making this decision, a rabbit decided to make an appearance.

Rabbits in this state are huge. The one thing that is actually “bigger in Texas”. Trees are tiny bushes compared to everywhere else, but the rabbits… huge, with cool big floppy ears. Well there was one of these cool rabbits by the fence to my left that caught my attention by moving. So I look over at it and think “aww its kinda like the ‘Im late! I’m late! I’m late for a very important date!’ rabbit from Alice in Wonderland.” While I am thinking about this and said rabbit, I was apparently drifting to the right… where I proceeded to step on a baseball sized rock.

This is the “crime scene”. Rabbit on left by the fence, big rocks on right.

The first thing I usually think when I fall on my face is “crap, I really hope no one saw that”. Pride comes before physical injury. I scan the surrounding area and confirm… No humans. Phew. Then I realize that my hand really kinda hurts. All my weight fell on it and since I landed in a bed of baseball side rocks, the landing was a little rough. I move off the rocks and place my bum on the sidewalk, looking at my aching hand the entire time. No cuts. Im good. No one saw me. Even better. So I sit on the sidewalk and pause my workout on my phone (its counting time still) and laugh. That was so clumsy, but no harm done. Then…. I felt it. The wet, trickling feeling going down my leg. I look down and see this:

 

Hmmmm ok. That is gross. Seeing blood doesn’t bother me (that changes in a few paragraphs) so Im still calm and cool as a cucumber. I try to think is there is anything I can wipe the blood off with and continue with my run (it was going really well). Then I realized that this was really, really bleeding. Perhaps I should just go home. I head home and avoid people with my bright red leg. I walk inside and tell Watson hello and look at my leg… kinda getting worse:

I take off my blood soaked sock and hop on the kitchen island, armed with wet paper towels and start wiping the blood off of my leg. I’m still ok with the blood… just telling Watson all about my tumble, and telling him to not sniff the previous white paper towels. Then I get to the cut itself…. There is mountain of congealed blood on top of it. I poke at it with my paper towel and instead of being liquid… its like a gel. This is when I’m suddenly no longer ok with this situation. I decide its time…. It’s time to call the mom. I have never cut myself this badly, so I don’t know how to clean wounds. Mothers know these things. So I call and explain that Im ok… but bleeding profusely. J I called for advice on cleaning open wounds but instead I got... “go to urgent care”. If you know anything about my mom, you know that she is pretty hardcore when it comes to bodily injury. I fell down “you are fine”. I got hit in soccer and after the game I got “Why did it take you so long to get up. You seemed fine”. My sister walked around with a broken finger for days because she was fine and it was just a jam. So… when my mom tells me that I should go to urgent care… Im a little worried. But then again… its just a cut. I don’t want to go for a 1.5 inch cut (although it was as wide as a Q-tip end). We hang up and I am stood at my car with my keys in my hand, debating if I really need to go. Mom is overreacting right? Its just a cut…. But I cant get it to stop bleeding… sigh.

I had the same debate when I got to the clinic parking lot. I finally go inside and check in… feeling really dumb. I joke with the receptionist (she was really funny too) and the nurse. I need humor to get through this. They bring me in about 10 mins later for blood pressure and temp. They said my heart was beating a little fast… umm Im bleeding so… yeah. It probably is. The lady gave me a Band-Aid and some gauze and sent me back to the waiting room. I sat there for an hour and as every minute went by, I felt dumber and dumber. Its just a cut and Im sitting in the waiting room at my bedtime. I look down and the Band-Aid is bright red and there is blood pouring down my leg. Goodness!! I attempt to mop it up with tissues and gauze for 20 minutes when they finally called me in.

They lead me into the trauma room. Really… the trauma room?!?! Its just a cut! The girl sits me down in a huge chair and we are just chatting. I am explaining that I am overreacting but my mom told me I should come. She takes the Band-Aid off, gasps and says “holy…..”. She just looks at me. “you were going to just slap a Band-Aid on this?!?” Ummm... yes. Yes I was. She hands me a vaccine questionnaire, tells me to fill it out and walks out to get the doctor. Vaccine waiver?!?!? Wait what? The panic starts to set in. Im fine... its just a cut. Right?

The doctor walks in. She is a character. At about 65 she is a bristly, but nice at the same time lady. At this point I resort to humor because I would have started panicking. She wheels up a metal table with a blue bundle on it. Oh crappers… that is a suture kit. (I know this because of Grey’s Anatomy). She is chatting away and asking me why Im in Texas and was I still in school. She asked where I went to college and I say “HWS… it’s a small liberal arts school in NY” and she looks at me with this uber dirty look and says all haughtily “I know where it is. It’s a good school”. Wow… well excuse me. While she is filling the biggest shot that I have ever seen in my life, right in front of me, we discover we have a common interest… Antiques Roadshow. She got a lot nicer after that.

She sits down and explains that the suture kit is the just the “tools of her trade” and I was just like… it’s a sewing kit. She thought that was funny and said that she didn’t want to be so honest about it. Lady… Im beyond being ok with this situation so Im just calling it how it is. I then had to hear about that since she was so tall growing up that she had to fix hems and such on her clothes… and that made her a better doctor. I know she was trying to distract me but… it wasn’t working. She had the biggest shot EVER in one hand, and an alcohol pad in the other.

I wasn’t in any pain at all… until the alcohol pad was driven into my open flesh wound. Holy crap. How can one little square of cloth make that much pain. That was nothing though to the shot. I couldn’t look. I wish she wouldn’t have been so honest with me on this part. I assumed that she would inject the anesthesia AROUND the wound… not directly in it. She stuck that huge needle in my wound 5 times and injected the worst burn I have ever felt all the way up and down my 1.5 inch wound. I barely survived. I don’t do well with shots. I really don’t do well with shots into gaping holes in my body. I thought I was going to die right there in that chair. I didn’t though… I was alive. The problem with me is that I cant really handle the fact that she is going to sew my skin together… but I couldn’t not watch. It was so cool! I couldn’t feel anything (except for some tugging with made me slightly nauseous). We chatted about antiques and other random things. She then says “you didn’t ask how many stitches you were going to get.” Wow lady… Im sorry. I was distracted by the LARGE NEEDLES and the LARGE AMOUNT OF MY BLOOD EVERYWHERE. “Oh yeah… how many”… she looks at me like im the dumbest human being ever and says “I don’t know until Im done”. Ummm ok…. Wow.

We were on stich number 8 when it happened. The spots, the sweating, the constricted breathing. Doctor friend lady had told me to tell her if I was going to pass out. I had made it through 7 stiches and she was tying the last one when I had to tell her….. “I see spots”. She whips into action and lays the chair back. Phew feeling better. Then she opens the door and hollers “can I get some help in here? Ice please! Pronto”. Goodness lady! Im not DYING! I receive an extremely cold ice back and just hang out while they pick everything up. They scrub the crusty blood off of me and bandage me all up. I feel so better. Its all over. That vaccine thing must have been for the shot in my leg right?

I don’t cry in public. At all. I did cry at a movie when it was just Alex and I in the entire theater… and that was awkward enough. The nurse came back in and said “ok… time for the tetanus shot”. I could feel my eyes welling up. No… no no no! I am TWENTY SIX years old. I can’t cry over a shot. I sit in the chair and think over and over again that I really am going to be ok… and that I am never running again. She turns around to ask me what arm I want it in… and she says “Sweetie… are you ok?”. There are some rules in life. One of them is that people can only call me “Sweetie” if we are dating. Or if the person is 80+. Not a girl who is my age. That stopped my eyes welling though. I picked my left arm, laid back down and clutched my ice pack for support.

I have never wanted to leave the doctor’s office so badly in my life (except maybe the first trip to the gyno). The nurses and receptionist that I was joking with earlier were still in the lobby (its 11:15 at this point) and they all ask if I was alive, if my mom was right, and if I was overreacting by coming in. It was a good distraction. They let me leave and I go home to figure out how to become un-stinky without getting my leg wet. Argh. I couldn’t even relax in the shower. Instead I had to take a cumbersome bath with my leg dangling over the edge. The last time I wanted at 11:45 was an ab workout. . I had to wash cloth wash my leg. I hate wash cloth washing. It makes me itchy. And I never feel like I get all of the soap back off. Grrr.  Here my leg is… all bundled and dry post bath:

 

Today I am tired. 6 hours of sleep isn’t enough. My cut aches. Probably because the skin is being held together by stitches. I can’t cross my legs because the spot hits the other leg no matter which leg is crossing which. I have a huge bandage on that I cant take off til tonight. Then I get to clean my wound twice a day. My next blog will have a picture of the stiches. Promise J

I wanted to take a picture or a video during the sewing but my phone had died as soon as I had walked into the Trauma Room. (it did end up being traumatic) I also would like to comment that my hand is perfectly fine. No mark even.

The moral of the story? (well there are four).

1.       Moms tend to be correct. Its kinda annoying…. But its just the way it is

2.       Don’t go running

3.       Perhaps having kids is a bad idea. I hear there are shots involved with that process at well. And IVs. May have to re-think that one….

4.    Next time Sister does something really silly and ends up at urgent care, I will not laugh. I now know what it feels like to “Pull a Katie”