Oct. 3rd, 2003

So I got hit on the head by a falling two-by-four, and ended up with a dozen stitches for my trouble.

Even though this meant waiting in the Emergency waiting room for three hours or so, it wasn't all that traumatic. It's amazing how relaxing it is being in a hospital, when you know exactly what minor, straightforward thing is wrong with you, exactly how dangerous it is, and exactly what they're going to do to fix it. Hearing nurses and patients discussing prescriptions and returning visits and such helps put everything in perspective. Plus I was reading 'Cancer Ward' by Alexander Solzhenitsyn, making the contrast further appreciable. Alas, there were no attractive Russian doctors nearby, and I was not an exile recently released from prison camp.

A moment before, he hadn't remembered, he'd forgotten that all lips are not the same, that kisses can be different, that one can be worth a hundred others.

The other part I found amusing was that, after the accidental smashing, the only immediate things on hand to staunch the initial bleeding were several of my mother's sanitary pads.

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