A First Time for Everything

I happened upon a significant milestone in my life last week, so I thought I'd take advantage of if to join the DiGennaro blog spot.
I may not lead the most placid or careful life, but before last week, I had never had to get stitches because of some accident or stupid thing I did. Whether it is because of God's almighty power or because of some amazing phenomenon that I reached twenty-three years of age with out ever having stitches I'm not sure. I am pretty sure that it is not because of the amount of care that I approach life with. Unfortunately I broke this stitch-free streak last week at work.
I am working at place called Arched Casings. They make curved wood for windows, trim, stairways, and any other curved wood thing you want to pay lots of money for. I am working on redoing a huge pole barn so that the factory can expand. On Wednesday John Scroggins and I were putting up tin on the ceiling. We had a piece of the said tin on a rack on the side of the scissor lift that we were using. As I was happily carrying a box of screws to the lift so that we could ascend to the ceiling to put up the said piece of tin, I finally, for the first time in my twenty-three years, did something careless. I glanced down to see what type of screws were in the box and walked right into the end of the said piece of tin on the lift. I was wearing a stocking hat which absorbed most of the blow of my head to the tin. After my hand came away from my head with blood on it, I knew that it had not totally saved me from my mistake. I had cut my head a little. As I walked over to find John, and the floor became sploched with blood, I still was not sure how bad it was because I know from my twenty-three years of experience that head wounds bleed a lot more than they really need to. I was supplied with a tin can to drip in so I would not get the floor bloody and was husled off to the bathroom. Under closer inspection, I saw that my hope of it only being the deceiving amount of blood was a false hope. I was really not looking forward to having to get stitches, but that was the general consensus. John drove me over to an urgent care center and after spending quite a bit of time filling out paper work, I was finally numbed and sewn up, six stitches in all. Shooting the numbing stuff in was the most painful part of the whole fiasco. After having the blood that had run down my face and puddled on the pad under my head was cleaned up I was given a tenus shot and sent out to pay the bill. The receptionist was informed that it was going to be self-pay, but the sum still came to over $300. I thought of saying that that was the most I had ever paid for a few centimeters of fishing line, but the other receptionist told the first lady how she was supposed to run it through the computer and the bill was nocked down to $154. That was at least much better. We finally made it back to work and got the said piece of tin safely screwed to the ceiling.
So after getting over being really annoyed with my self I am now the proud barer of battle wounds from working at Arched Casings.