wounded soldier

Yesterday I posted my Silent Sunday picture. I get the feeling that a lot of people thought I had given blood. I would love to say that I had because that would make me a better person than I actually am. But I hadn’t a) because I am a wuss and can’t stand needles and b) I can’t due to medication I am on.

No, the story behind my photo is not the kind of one you can make up…

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Last Wednesday I finally broke up from school.

Last Thursday I woke up at 4.17am wondering if I had remembered to lock the brass cupboard.

On the first day of my holiday I went to school, Big M in tow. She was very excited to finally see my classroom. I was anxious to lock the stupid cupboard.

Turns out I had locked the cupboard.

But I had forgotten to switch of the sockets with the keyboards plugged in. Good job we’d gone in then.

At this point, you need to know that my TA has a thing for sharpening pencils. Since she started in December my pencils have been pointier than a pointy thing.

So, because I am conscientious I reached over and switched off the first socket.

As I did so, one of the pencils stuck in my arm, the lead snapping off. I looked down to see about 1cm lead sticking out of my arm. Without thinking I pulled it out, at which point blood literally poured out of my arm, all over the floor, and to Big M’s continued amazement, all over my converse.

Three hours in A&E, an x ray and a bandage later I was home.

With a fucking pencil wound.

It could only happen to me.

 

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