Monday, August 21, 2006

Drip, drip, spurt, spill (Blood on the Dancefloor Pt. 2)

[Pt. 1]

Just kept going berserk, defending my place in front of the speaker, as usual making fun of yelling 'Drop it NOW!' etc. to the DJs just before they'd bring the beat back or producing sort of a drum roll to the same extent on whatever would resonate well enough when I'd hit it with my fists or the like, still kinda wondering I hadn't dropped hours ago. Just felt so good.

Well, actually was about as good as it would get this night, cause from then on just went downstream and steady.

First didn't notice myself at all, only the way some people around started gawping at me even more shocked like. Plus staring at my chest, and not the head. So eventually looked down on myself, and woa, hey, what's that? My T-shirt just turning red with huge stains of familiarly looking red, though not seeming torn or anything.

Well, found the source soon enough, juice literally flowing from my left hand. Drip, drip, drip, spurt, splish, splosh. Spilling not only on my shirt but also on my trousers, shoes and on the floor etc. as well (which finally brings us back to the overall title, by the way).

First thought it being plain funny. This time even being indolent for real. Guess no wonder after all the working out, going berserk, drinking etc., plus obviously the shock. Also definitely didn't want to leave the party.

But examining the hand closer, noticed this rather ugly gash at the side of my hand. At least 2 inches long, kinda deep looking. Must've come from this part of a broken bottle on the wooden stage beside me, having slammed it into the side of my hand for good when hammering to the beat there with my fist. Actually looking far too big and deep to just leave it be (not to mention the still ongoing generous donation).

So I decided to ask to have it dressed provisionally and then going straight to the hospital for some stitches. At first the people were a bit shocked cause I had loads of red also on my face (as I discovered later in the mirror), only calming down after I'd washed it away at the sink. Also while going up, remember this dog running along, sniffing and looking at me with this big begging eyes, me trying not dripping too much.

Fortunately they had all the necessary gear upstairs, this guy doing a nice job with the bandage. Even gave me some cash behind the bar for the tram when I asked, only to discover outside still being an hour early for that.

So in the end it was fastest and easiest just going by bike. Can't remember ever having cursed that much and loud while cycling before.

At the hospital they were nice enough after I'd filled out all the necessary forms etc., though didn't seem feeling inclined to believe I actually got this from dancing. Didn't take too much of a telepath taking a peak inside their heads, them thinking 'brawl' with an exclamation mark or two.

Concerning the slash, looks like I'm being lucky not having cut any tendons, important nerves or other delicate stuff, just a good old fashioned flesh wound.

Eventually this doctor rolled my bed to the operating theatre, him reassuring me he'll do narrow nice stitches so I won't have too much of an ugly scar and definitely not like on my other arm, as I'd been asking for repeatedly.

Still was a 100% indolent, but he nonetheless insisted injecting me an anaestethic anyway. Which I didn't feel as well, though it usually burns fairly well enough at first before turning numb. Was funny being able to see him going at it for a change, cause when getting the head done there's no such a chance.

Eventually rolled me back to emergency, where this other nurse from before injected me an tetanus vaccination, and off again I was.

Unfortunately, when I came back the party was already over, so eventually went home by tram 'n' bus for a shower plus some more protein, considering me having had enough adventure and not to mention trouble for the night and going for a kip just after.

Well, little did I know ...

(to be concluded)

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