Finger vs. Carrot

I was obsessed with carrots, would eat massive amounts after school and on weekends, I’m surprised I never turned orange. Maybe it was due to the fact that vegetables were scarce in this tropical local, but I couldn’t get enough.

I was rarely allowed to hang out in the kitchen, it was our cook’s domain, and she did not like me attempting to use anything in it. So, naturally, on a Saturday, no one was around, so I went into the kitchen, grabbed a few carrots, and a knife.

Yeah, well, didn’t really think it through, as I had never used a big knife before, and my finger got in the way. I didn’t cry, but noticed that blood was gushing out. I ran into the t.v room and half motioned to my Mother, she grabbed my hand and led me to the washroom. We ran my finger through the water, I screamed, we saw the bone.

My Father came in, noticing the trail of blood, perplexed and annoyed. He had just finished a golf game and was hot and soaked from the humidity.

It didn’t take long before we realized we had to get to the hospital.

As we arrived to the hospital, my hand bandaged up, my Father was still wearing his golfing outfit, my Mother was frantic, and we were in the public hospital, which, if you are a diplomat in a developing country, is not the place you necessarily want to be. Wall to wall blood, knife and gunshot wounds, it looked like a war zone.

My Father quietly went to the reception, a doctor quickly came out and ushered us onto a gurney. They wanted to make sure my Father was happy, and I was taken care of quickly, and we could leave quickly. N

I lay down on the bed, my arm outstretched on a platform. I looked around, there was a man on the gurney beside me, he was covered in blood, doctors were working around him. One of the doctors pulled the curtain, it didn’t cover the scene completely. My father noticing what was going on, stood in my line of view. My finger was throbbing, but all I could hear were the screams next to me. Then nothing. The blood was pooling on the ground. It was getting closer to my Father’s white running shoes. I had never seen so much blood before.

My finger was all stitched up, it turns out, I needed 7 stitches. The gentleman beside me had multiple gun shot wounds, and was pronounced dead. I saw the priest come in, give him blessings, and giving a prayer. There was something peaceful that came over the emergency room, almost like everyone was having a minute of silent prayer at the same time.

When I finally got up, I was woozy from the smell of disinfectant, blood and the smell of burning flesh. We were quickly ushered out a special side door, the doctor’s were half smiling, but wanted us out. We never talked about that day again.

I wasn’t allowed to cut a carrot after that, but I did end up learning how to use a knife. 🙂

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