Here's a story for you: I'm off to my cousin's college graduation party in Massachusetts with my mother this past June. Fearing the Deviled Eggs had fallen over in the back seat, my mother pulled over on Main Street in my quaint, New England hometown. I jumped out to check on the damage. As I got to the back of the car, I felt something piercing my left foot, just at the edge of my heel where the sole of my sandal ended. Thinking I had just stepped on a bee, I took the most appropriate action and shook my foot away from my body as though I was possessed in order not to see or touch anything insect-y (I may have grown up in the country, but I live in NYC now - we don't interact with nature on a daily basis). When that did nothing to stop the supposed bee attacker, I finally looked down to see a used medical needle sticking out of my foot.
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| The lady of the hour. |
I plucked the thing out of my foot, looked at it and thought, "Well, shit." It's one of those moments when you hurt yourself or witness an emergency where you have to remind yourself that you need to act. "I just saw someone get beaten up, cue the 'I should call the police' reaction." "I just burned half of my hand off, cue the 'I should seek medical attention' thought." I held it up, walked back to the passenger side window (I did manage to check that the Deviled Eggs were ok. Priorities), and after explaining to my mom said, "I think this is the part where we go to the ER."
