kin

brendan stabbed himself in the arm by accident at work. i arrive to pick him up to discover he has a wound in his forearm and needs me to drive him to the hospital. in a very domestic fashion i tell him that i have a cake in the oven and we'll need to stop at home to take it out before going to hotel dieu.

we spent 2 hours there. it was ok. time past fairly fast. when i got bored of reading we played madlibs. we had some good giggles the first time around. but on the second one, it just killed me! i was laughing quite hard when the doctor and resident arrived back in our space. my laughter closely resembled crying, so dr adam was quite concerned, while dr francis asked if we'd been smoking pot. as francis and adam addressed brendan, i hid behind him stiffing my laughs, which only made it seem more funny.

i'd guessed that he'd need 3 stitches. the triage nurse said "a couple". brendan thought that since she's a nurse and i'm a graphic designer that she was probably right with 2. but in the end he only had one. his clothes are covered in blood. the cut itself is only about 1 inch, but it was deep and gushy. this event may very well have convinced him that having a second pair of pants is not a bad idea. without them he's going to have to be all "risky business" around the house tomorrow. watch out rach!

it struck me odd today at the hospital that not only is the word "pants" plural, but we refer to them as a "pair" of pants. they're not a pair of anything. they're one. sure there are two legs, but when would you ever need just one pant, and you can't lose one they're not like a sock or a mitten. it's weird.

the first cut is the deepest.