Thursday, October 31, 2002

 
Well since everybody wants the full story, I suppose I should post the complete, unabridged and only slightly embellished tale of my impalement.

It was last Sunday at about 11:30 PM and I was walking with Keith (my roommate), Diana (a friend from UNT), and Chris Ha (an odd duck) toward a sushi bar that keith, chris and I frequent. I have always been enamoured of high places, so spotting a thin ledge on a fence that marked the border of where iron met stone, I decided that being three or four feet abouve ground was prefferable to being on the ground and hopped up. No sooner had I taken three steps than I discovered (much to my chagrin) that sandals and slippery stone surfaces don't mix. I slipped off the edge, and though my feet landed catlike on the ground, my shoulder was somehow stuck on the fence. At first, confused as to what had happened, I tried to pull my arm out of the fence, but found my self hooked. Realizing that one of the decorative spearpoints had, in fact, pieced my flesh, I lurched upward, wrenching fred, and immediately tucked my arm to my side. Thats when the pain hit. Immediately I began screaming, not so much from the pain, but to burn off all the adrenaline my body was dumping into my system. My friends, being the compassionate souls they are, started laughing. Finally, after about fifteen seconds of screaming, keith decided he might as well have a look and see if anything was wrong. As he lifted my arm, blood began to bubble forth. "Shit!" he said "Okay, everyone, we need to get David to the hospital."
So we drove around and found the hospital, and I was greeted at the ER with a wheelchair. They, wheeled me over to a counter, where a unintelligent and callous nurse took as long as was humanly possible to ask me a string of questions that could easily have been asked after I had been drugged up. Then, deciding, I suppose, that she needed to see the wound for herself, she yanked my arm up and said, "I don't see the wound" to which I replied "JESUS CHRIST THAT HURTS!!". Eventually, I guess she saw the large, easily identifiable puncture wound, because she let my arm down.
After what seemed like a much longer wait than it probalbly was, I was told to lay down on a hospital bed, and was taken to an alcove in the ER, where a small number of hilghly trained men in pastel scrubs cleaned and treated my wound, as well as pumping me full of a bunch of painkilles I can only discribe with the term "Good Shit". At one point near the hight of my doped-upness, I open my eyes and see a large, black nurse in pastel blue scrubs, though I'm sure I was unconcious, I find that I am humming "leaving on a jet plane" and probably have been for some time. I turn to the nurse "Hows it going man?" I ask.
"Good, brotha. Yourself?" he retorted wittily.
"Well..."
"Yeah I understand."
"Hows it look?"
"It looks COOL, man."
I laughed, "Cool, huh?"
"Yeah, but then I think all those cuts an shit's cool. Thats why I do this."
"That makes sense, I suppose"
"So what was it, knife?"
"Fence"
"Thats cool, yo."
"I think I'm gonna sleep now."
"Aight man, stay cool."
"Yeah..."
I slept.
I woke up next when Keith entered to make sure I was still alive. I was, so we went and paid my hospital bills and such, then waited for Fred (Summer roommate, thin guy, hunched shoulders, amorphous) to come. After a few minutes, Fred's car wobbled insecurely to the checkout point, I got in, went home and slept.
The moral of this story is, scream alot in the ER and you get better painkillers.
posted by David 1:25 PM

Wednesday, October 30, 2002

 
This is perhaps the first time I've decided to put my thoughts and stuff on the web, so bear with me. I've got lots of stuff that I want to write, but at the moment I'm kind of sleepy, so instead I'll pass along a question asked of me in computer fluency just after letting loose a resounding snore;
Just what the hell is my problem?
posted by David 6:42 PM