Oh wait, about 10 years ago I cut my left pointer finger down to the bone (right through the middle of my finger print) with a BUTTER KNIFE in a Marriott Residence Inn while trying to open a plastic bag of pasta. How a dull blade like that made it to the bone, is hard to explain without visuals, but I can still feel the scar tissue in that finger.
I remember sitting at the ER and feeling completely emasculated as I complained about the pain a bit while they were stitching and two men came running in… one with his hand in a large wrap, the other with 4 of his fingers ready to be sowed back on. Yet, here I am with my pointer finger and an ouchy and whining about the stitches.
