4 things i regret doing while drunk in your emergency room

So far, you have no doubt read the full description of my injury dictated to the emergency room nurse from the main entrance floor (
I have no strength to pull myself out of the automatic door).
If for some reason you don\'t, assuming she insists on my strict layout requirements, the tragedy happens at the end of chapter 8.
To put it simply, some of my friends and I were swimming at the Las Vegas hotel late at night.
I flew from the water\'s edge and easily flew 45 feet in the air, at least 2 times.
My approach angle was perfect when I finally got gravity to win, my splash was polite, but I underestimated the distance of the wall in the distance.
I\'m used to 50-
This is a hot tub if I remember correctly.
My face and walls embrace like old friends, or, more accurately, like a water ball filled with blood and cartilage embrace a piece of concrete.
\"Oops\" is my first clear idea, followed by \"well-oh.
\"In the end, once I have time to weigh the situation fully,\" Oh no ,!
\"Now, you may be thinking,\" what is in it that explains why you are taking off your pants in the waiting room of the emergency room and crying on the windowsill?
\"Well, there are really two answers.
One is that while I was in a hurry to the hospital, I still wanted to look decent, I put on my jeans, but didn\'t take off my wet bathing suit first.
Second, I was drunk.
Now, no one likes to wear wet jeans, so I hope the progress now makes more sense.
As for crying, I want the doctor to know that alcohol can aggravate the mood and I refuse to apologize for preparing myself for the worst --case scenario.
It may not be obvious to you, but behind the swollen scabs and blood stains --
The towel was wet and I was handsome.
Some people say that.
I don\'t want you to understand how disastrous it is for a handsome person to lose handsome (
Your forehead is tilted. how is it possible to have ears? )
But my whole identity and my whole life depend on whether I am kind or not.
Watch forever.
That\'s why, when we first met, I didn\'t introduce myself like a normal person, but deeply cried and asked you who would love me. See?
Not so strange after all.
You couldn\'t have known that at the time, but I was a huge fan of the blood that stayed in my body.
The loose blood made me very anxious, especially when it was my own.
While some call it \"extreme phobia\", I \'d rather see it as \"realistic understanding and respect for the value of life, damn.
\"Everything about the exposed blood looks and smells like a warning, and anyone willing to ignore this warning may have a numb and numb soul.
I am not careless about bloodletting;
This is mine. I did it.
Now, as you can see, facial wounds plus hot water and alcohol are the perfect combination of a blood storm and I really try to avoid this by fainting.
But in this case, the nurse at the front desk told me several times that fainting was one thing I was not allowed to do.
So I had to lay on my windowsill, and my vitality penetrated into the towel as I waited for you to help me.
Most of all, I\'m not an idiot, doctor.
I know that you hide a lot of blood behind those serious gates to the hospital.
You may have a whole bag of blood there, filled so full that their seams are all extending and are now broken again.
To be frank, I would be surprised whenever the hospital elevator door opens and the wave of blood doesn\'t come out.
You have been very lucky for a long time.
So I hope that in this case the reason why I refuse to move is clearer when you let me follow you through these doors.
When you turned your head to see me, I made a request to be taken away.
I\'m not crazy. you \'ve been hacked to death in your life.
Let me first say that I am not claustrophobic.
I\'m even kind of looking forward to MRI, or at least getting back to my room with a full team of doctors, and as a result on a translucent piece of paper you all stumbled and told me, you have never captured such a magnificent imagination.
But this is the case.
As soon as the machine was launched, I had a terrible idea. I was lying on the tongue of a huge machine head and was about to be eaten.
You threw me into that room as a sacrifice, then ran to the room next to me to see it devour me.
Although it sounds silly, it would be even more foolish to make it happen if it turned out to be true.
I\'m 86% sure it\'s an MRI machine, but if it\'s just this time, you\'re really feeding me some mechanized beast and I\'m just lying there, how stupid would I feel?
The answer is stupid.
In essence, I am a survivor and it is precisely because I never sit back when I suspect something might try to devour me.
That\'s why when you yell at me from next door, I punch on top of my mouth and climb out.
But in a way, it\'s not clear to me before we start that it\'s not a sacrifice, the MRI machine can\'t smell my wound, it\'s really your fault.
I don\'t want to tell you how to do your job, but I\'m sure your future patients will like itup like that.
Of all the ups and downs we shared that night, I suspect that the first, second and fourth attempts to stitch my face could be the most difficult one for you.
I\'m sorry about that.
Still, I think it\'s important to point out that it looks like my fearless shake is actually another huge misconception.
One day, I believe, in the distant future, when we meet each year at your place on the anniversary of the event, you and I will laugh because of beer.
What really happened was this: just after you showed me the size of the hook you wanted to stab between my eyes, I decided I needed to vomit.
These two things are completely irrelevant.
I have heard that the patient should not eat before the big surgery, and considering the severity of my wound, I know we don\'t have time to wait for me to digest all the buffet shrimp and ice cream I smashed on the way out of the hotel.
I just want to give this program the greatest chance of success.
Also, come on, you can catch a deep sea fish with that needle.
Now, I know you \'ve been through a lot that night, and it\'s true that some look a lot like my fault.
But when you yell at the door of the bathroom, I can hear your tone and you don\'t have any emotional state to do the surgery.
Some people are in high fold.
I can\'t blame you under pressure.
You\'re just people.
I just wanted to give you a chance to calm down before stitching up my favorite part.
The last thing we both need, the last thing our friendship needs at that night/Dawn, is the revenge stitching.
I appreciate your willingness to find a smaller needle and describe it to me through the door.
By that time, I think we have finally started working as a team and everything has gone even better.
In fact, the next two times I locked myself in the bathroom was not that long either.
Finally, I think we can all be proud of the way we deal with the entire fiasco.
Even now, like a butterfly that appears from a brown and scaly pupal, my face has begun to heal and surface from under scabs.
When people ask me to tell them how things happen, I always tell them about you, about the night we saved my face together, and how I helped soften you
See you, old friend, a year later.