That same finger that was infected just last week was endangered again.
It’s a sign, but Tama won’t let me cut it off.I may or may not have stabbed myself with a syringe supposed to be full of drugs (but for practice was just colored water) right in the finger.
We were withdrawing “drugs” into separate syringes with the intent to mix them into a final batch. Each syringe, to protect the needle from contamination, has a cap. It doesn’t just slip off hunky-dory. To properly take off the cap, you must put the flat of your wrists together, grip the syringe’s barrel with your thumb, index, and middle finger while the same fingers on your other hand grip the cap. Both hands are supposed to simultaneously tug in opposite directions.
It may have been a product of feeling nervous about upcoming tests or the fact I was still overjoyed that we planned to study some history of medicine in this class, or maybe that the person sitting near me was chatty, but as soon as the cap came off my wrist jerked and I stabbed my left ring finger. It wasn’t just a casual “here is your injection” type needle either. It was big, 20mL and the momentum sent it in a ways.
Fortunately I have a sense of humor and a real lack of consideration of pain and I just ended up laughing it off, enjoying myself as much as one could, and asked for my teacher’s pet leech to do its work while blood poked out of my glove and ran down my finger and hand, right onto my “sterile” workstation.
Sadly because class was already almost over I had to opt for the sink, instead, in spite of about four fellow students ready to leech me. The teacher didn’t seem at all surprised that I would be one of the few who would be ready or excited to feed a leech.
So while I bled my finger out over the sink I was just standing there, cracking jokes, and once my finger had been bandaged I returned to my workstation. For some reason that I cannot fathom no one wants to be my patient. I only picked up that same contaminated and bloody needle and used it to finish my mixtures. It’s week three and my total death count for victims is only about ten.
Oh, I’m the dorky one, huh?
I’m pretty sure you’re the only person I know to ever get this hyped about potentially having something suck your blood - and I know a whole bunch of Twilight fangirls.
Bottom line is:
A) My hat is awesome
B) You are the dorkiest. It is you.
Wait… Wait… Did… Did you just… You just lined me up with the girls and boys who might want some marble man to chew on me? That is an insult to leeches! I don’t even know you anymore!
You just hurt this little guy’s feelings.
…Actually truth be told that fellow is a monster.