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florida80 · 06-02-2021

Your Reaction Has You In Stitches
CONNECTICUT, HEALTH & BODY, OFFICE, USA | HEALTHY | DECEMBER 22, 2017
(Due to living through some really messed up stuff, I have an incredibly high pain tolerance, and avoid asking for help if it’s something I can do myself. Combine that with the fact that I am a massive klutz, and you get someone that consistently injures themselves (frequently at work), fixes it as best they can, and just shrugs it off as nothing. I have once again managed to hurt myself, resulting in about a two-inch long gash on my forearm. It’s not too deep, but it needs stitches. I can and have stitched myself up from similar injuries in the past, using sewing needles and fishing line. I am in the middle of doing this, when a coworker I will refer to as “Work Mom” walks into my office.)

Work Mom: “Hey, [My Name], my computer is having iss— WHAT THE H*** ARE YOU DOING?!”

(I do not stop stitching as I speak with her.)

Me: “Oh, I just got a little cut, and am sewing myself back up. I’ll be right as rain in a minute. So what’s going on with your computer?”

Work Mom: “No. No, no, no. How are you not screaming? You are coming with me to the walk-in right now!”

Me: *stops stitching* “I really don’t think that’s necessary. I’ve done this before, and I’ll be fine.”

Work Mom: “I’m calling medical, then you are going to the doctor. You do not have a choice in this, you crazy b****!”

(I give up, as arguing at this point is futile. I walk down the hall to medical, and sit in a chair after speaking to the onsite medical person. As Work Mom’s back is turned, I finish stitching up the cut, and cut the needle free. Work Mom gets permission to take me knowing I won’t go by myself, and we go to the walk-in clinic. We wait for a bit, and get called into a room. The doctor walks in about 10 minutes later.)

Doctor: “So, what’re you here for today?”

Me: “I think it’s a bit of an overrea—”

Work Mom: “This crazy person got a cut, and decided that it would be easiest to stitch it up herself!”

Doctor: “…what? You’re kidding me.”

Me: “No. I’ve done this before, and had no trouble.” *I hold out my arm for the doctor to inspect*

Doctor: “Jesus, woman! Didn’t that hurt?”

Me: “Eh.”

Doctor: “I’ll have to remove this… What did you use?”

Me: “Fishing line.”

Doctor: *mutters something under his breath* “I’ll get the proper tools for this.”

Me: *knowing I will never get another chance to ask this* “So, how’s my stitching?”

Doctor: “What? Did you just really ask me that?”

Me: “Yeah, come on. I’m curious.” *I have a massive s***-eating grin on my face at this point*

Doctor: *mumbles something*

Me: “Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

Doctor: *exasperated* “You’re stitching is fine, but seriously, don’t do this again!”

06-02-2021	#1078
florida80 R11 Độc Cô Cầu Bại Join Date: Aug 2007 Posts: 113,777 Thanks: 7,441 Thanked 47,021 Times in 13,125 Posts Mentioned: 1 Post(s) Tagged: 0 Thread(s) Quoted: 511 Post(s) Rep Power: 161	Your Reaction Has You In Stitches CONNECTICUT, HEALTH & BODY, OFFICE, USA \| HEALTHY \| DECEMBER 22, 2017 (Due to living through some really messed up stuff, I have an incredibly high pain tolerance, and avoid asking for help if it’s something I can do myself. Combine that with the fact that I am a massive klutz, and you get someone that consistently injures themselves (frequently at work), fixes it as best they can, and just shrugs it off as nothing. I have once again managed to hurt myself, resulting in about a two-inch long gash on my forearm. It’s not too deep, but it needs stitches. I can and have stitched myself up from similar injuries in the past, using sewing needles and fishing line. I am in the middle of doing this, when a coworker I will refer to as “Work Mom” walks into my office.) Work Mom: “Hey, [My Name], my computer is having iss— WHAT THE H*** ARE YOU DOING?!” (I do not stop stitching as I speak with her.) Me: “Oh, I just got a little cut, and am sewing myself back up. I’ll be right as rain in a minute. So what’s going on with your computer?” Work Mom: “No. No, no, no. How are you not screaming? You are coming with me to the walk-in right now!” Me: stops stitching “I really don’t think that’s necessary. I’ve done this before, and I’ll be fine.” Work Mom: “I’m calling medical, then you are going to the doctor. You do not have a choice in this, you crazy b***!” (I give up, as arguing at this point is futile. I walk down the hall to medical, and sit in a chair after speaking to the onsite medical person. As Work Mom’s back is turned, I finish stitching up the cut, and cut the needle free. Work Mom gets permission to take me knowing I won’t go by myself, and we go to the walk-in clinic. We wait for a bit, and get called into a room. The doctor walks in about 10 minutes later.) Doctor: “So, what’re you here for today?” Me: “I think it’s a bit of an overrea—” Work Mom: “This crazy person got a cut, and decided that it would be easiest to stitch it up herself!” Doctor: “…what? You’re kidding me.” Me: “No. I’ve done this before, and had no trouble.” I hold out my arm for the doctor to inspect* Doctor: “Jesus, woman! Didn’t that hurt?” Me: “Eh.” Doctor: “I’ll have to remove this… What did you use?” Me: “Fishing line.” Doctor: mutters something under his breath “I’ll get the proper tools for this.” Me: knowing I will never get another chance to ask this “So, how’s my stitching?” Doctor: “What? Did you just really ask me that?” Me: “Yeah, come on. I’m curious.” I have a massive s*-eating grin on my face at this point Doctor: mumbles something Me: “Sorry, I didn’t catch that?” Doctor: exasperated “You’re stitching is fine, but seriously, don’t do this again!”