Like too many people, I am stupidly accident prone. I don't usually cause any severe or irreparable damage to myself, but I very rarely get through a day without some sort of injury to my person.
The thing about injuries, is they are either awesome things that you can describe to everyone you know and gain instant cool points, or they are embarrassing and dumb or just unfortunate.
My injuries always seem to fall into the "embarrassing and dumb" category. Even things that should be in the "awesome" category always get un-awesomed by some minor detail.
For instance:
Awesome injury = being stabbed with an unconventional stabbing instrument and having an oddly shaped scar.
Un-awesome injury = accidentally stabbing yourself with an unconventional stabbing instrument and having an oddly shaped scar.
A few years ago I got a flu that was pretty awful. I couldn't stand up without passing out, and was essentially a decomposing lump of uselessness that laid in bed 23 hours a day for about a week. The fun part about flus, especially the ones that make you all dizzy and bedridden, is your head starts going a little funny.
One day after I'd already been sick for about a week I decided I was done with this "being sick" stuff. I was going to get out of bed and function like a human if it killed me. So I got out of bed and somehow managed to shuffle out of my room.
My first thought was, What would a normal, healthy, non-bedridden person do at 12:30 pm? Make lunch. So that's what I decided to do. I threw together some sort of edible mess and put it into the microwave, exceptionally proud of myself.
Throughout this entire "adventure" I was having, I had started to feel increasingly lightheaded. I tried to lean against a wall, but it wasn't helping- my vision started going all blotchy and I finally accepted that I was not, in fact, a healthy, functioning organism for the time being. I don't remember much after this point, but I remember thinking that if I was going to pass out, I wanted to fall somewhere soft. So I did my best impersonation of a run (I remember ping-ponging back and forth between the walls of my hallway as I went) back to my room.
I ended up passing out just as I got to the door to my room, and I fell face forward kind of half onto my bed. When I landed I had a fleeting moment of consciousness wherein I realized that I narrowly missed my target and was now falling off of my bed. After all the effort of running to my room so I could pass out on my own bed, I ended up falling on the floor and smacking my head anyways.
When I came to a few minutes later, my stomach really hurt. I looked, and found that I had four mysterious little puncture marks that were bleeding all over my shirt. Huh, I thought. How strange. Then I realized that I was still clutching the fork I had been using to stir my microwaved lunch with. When I had fallen down onto my bed, I had been clutching the fork, which stabbed up my stomach real good.
And that's the story of how I got a self-inflicted stab wound.
