My first class had essentially ended. All my good material was used up, and... "Crap!" I thought. "There's more than five minutes left before they're supposed to leave!" Well, I had a short pop-up book story that I pulled out. All the kids sat quietly except for two siblings. Finally their mother dragged them out of there, then apologized while complaining. "Sorry," she said. And then added in a harsher tone, "It's just too many stories!" Well, the name of the class ain't Animal Tales for nuthin', lady! And the rest of the students had no problem sitting and listening to the last story. Thank god.

Still, after they left, I was nervous. There had to be something better I could come up with to make sure the full 45 minutes of my second class was interesting and fun. A craft! A craft takes up time and the kids always love them. I remembered seeing a bunny mask and knew I could run off copies really quickly before class started. It would be tight, but do-able. I grabbed a fistful of yarn from the yarn bin, and the scissors out of the drawer. The red handled ones were too dull to cut anything. I grabbed the blue handled ones and began hurriedly cutting the yarn into individual lengths. Pull yarn, snip! Pull yarn, snip! Pull yarn, snip!

Ow! Did I just cut my fingernail? What the heck is that thing lying on the table? Oh, it's my skin. And... I'm bleeding.

Yes, that's right. With exactly five minutes before my next class was due to start, I chopped off the very tip of my finger, just the skin, right above the nail (not the whole knuckle or anything outrageous like that). Just enough to bleed profusely and send me into a panic. The most I could think of was: paper towels, apply pressure, find Nina. My locked classroom door closed behind me as I walked quickly down the hallway, squeezing my hand in the paper towels. I passed the first student of my next class and his grandmother.

"There's my teacher!" the little boy said excitedly.

"Are you all right??" his grandmother asked me.

"Oh, I will be," I replied with feigned confidence, and added, "I'll be right back!" I was almost certain that wasn't true.

I found Nina, who had a "calm on the outside, freaking out on the inside" look on her face the instant she saw me and my collection of bloody paper towels. I think we were all just pretending to be calm at that point.

The girl at the front desk (who Nina had instructed me to see) handed me band-aids from the first aid kit along with antiseptic wipes and some antibiotic cream. I took all the stuff with me to the restroom which was filled with moms and schoolchildren who had just finished a tour of the museum. I put my hands under the running water with the intention of washing them, but so much blood poured out of me, I realized it would be impossible. Plus, the pain! My god! The water hurt. My thumb was in no condition to be exposed to soap, alcohol or creams. I asked one mother to open the first band-aid for me, as another mom told some kid, "I don't know, she has a boo-boo."

I hate it when people say, "boo-boo."

After I got the band-aid on, I returned the unused cream, etc, to the first aid kit. The girl asked if I cared for another band-aid to wrap around the sides of the first one. I said yes, and as I attached the last sticky side, blood literally squirted out of two tiny openings all over the desk and floor. And that's when I panicked. I was seconds away from bursting into tears, and my brain could not come up with a plan.

a) I hurt.
b) I felt like the biggest idiot ever on the planet.
c) Who was going to teach my class exactly?
d) Did I need stitches??
e) When/how was I going to stop bleeding?!

Those thoughts hurtled through my mind as Nina walked me over to the wildlife hospital. I'd forgotten all about them!

As a vet assistant went to get some bandaging equipment, I briefed Nina on my syllabus for the day, and she ran downstairs to teach my class. "We don't usually see people in here," the vet assistant said when she returned. I laughed when she added with a smile, "Well, we'll just bandage you up like we would a bird!" And she did! She also gave me two Tylenol and some water and told me I could rest there in the hospital lounge as long as I needed to and could come back if I needed more help. "But I would definitely have that looked at as soon as you can," she said. I thanked her for all her help, took a couple deep breaths, and went to check on Nina and my class.

I felt pretty woozy, so I took the elevator down and then sat next to Nina on the floor as she finished the first story. I felt grateful and a little sad as I realized she was doing a better job than I usually do! She stayed there and we kind of co-taught for the next ten minutes. Nina had no idea what points I wanted to make, etc., and so eventually let me take the wheel as she went back upstairs. I taught the last ten minutes of class by myself, and when Nina came down afterwards, she apologized, and said, "I don't know what I was thinking! I shouldn't have even let you teach!" She cleaned my classroom for me and I took my cell phone outside to call Sabs, my doctor (who told me to go to the ER since their office was closed for lunch), then Beth (since I couldn't reach Sabs). Beth said to just go to the ER, and she'd figure out what to do about Victor. I felt so terrible, but Beth was super-sweet, which made me feel a little less terrible. I also left Joe a message on his cell phone, telling him I was going to the ER, not to worry, and to call me on my cell if he needed me.

Amy, the head of one of the volunteer departments who I used to work closely with, found me outside, asked me questions and brought me trail mix when I said I felt light-headed and thought I should eat something. She told me she wanted to know when I was leaving for the ER and that she wanted an update later so that she could know "when to turn off Mother Mode." A few more people I know saw me and expressed concern, ordering me to the ER, ASAP. I filled out an accident report (slowly...I'd injured my writing hand), bought snacks and a Gatorade at the deli a block away (the only time I've ever driven there from the museum instead of walked!), and drove to the ER using only one hand to steer.

Brenda, the triage nurse, was very nice. Her chipper personality, as well as finally being at the ER, made me feel more at ease. I was still bleeding continuously when she replaced my snazzy animal hospital bandage with a single band-aid. Then I went to the next station, where an equally peppy receptionist lady took all my information down. She wrote everything for me except my signatures, where she said initials would be okay. Then she became the first of about a thousand people with whom I had the following conversation:

"Well, you're not left-handed though, right?"

"No, I am left-handed."

"What? Then what were you doing cutting with your right hand?"

"They were right-handed scissors!"

For those of you who don't know, there are a great number of right handed tools out there, and scissors are one of them. I can't remember the last time I saw left-handed scissors, to tell you the truth, and I've gotten so used to using right-handed scissors, I'd feel strange using anything else. I've gotten used to using my right hand for tons of stuff, which is good, because I really need it right now!

After watching two seconds of a Harry Potter movie on the television in the waiting lounge, they led me to a gurney and I carefully hopped on up. They pulled the curtain mostly closed, and then I waited forever to be seen. Luckily, since I'd been planning on seeing Victor right after teaching, I had my whole backpack with me, which held my book and glasses. I made a decent dent in my book before it was my turn to be seen. Every so often, I heard conversations, and watched various patients go in and out of a door to my right. And I couldn't help thinking, "Wow, this is nothing like the t.v. show." I was thankful for that, and glad that it was a very nice ER. I almost fell asleep, in fact, while I waited!

Eventually, the doctor came over to inspect my finger. I took off the band-aid, which stung a bit. And wouldn't you know it? I'd finally stopped bleeding. She said if I'd lost more of my finger, they would have done a skin graft, either with the skin itself (which I'd brought with me), or by taking skin from another part of my body. Because of the type of cut it was, there wasn't any way to stitch it up. So, she said it would need to be bandaged and kept clean, and in a few weeks, it should be completely healed. "It's a slow process, but you shouldn't have any problems," she told me.

She left, and another guy came over, introduced himself as an ER technician, and delicately bandaged my finger. He worked slowly and spoke softly as he explained everything he was doing. I felt calm while I watched him. He squeezed a gooey cream onto my wound and wrapped a small piece of brown netting over the cream and around my thumb. He taped that in place, then pulled out something called tube gauze, which was weird and somewhat mesmerizing! The tube went completely over my thumb, then he twisted it a few times, pulled it up above my thumb, twisted again, put it over my thumb, twisted, and so on. I laughed, watching the bandage grow thicker during this weird process. I couldn't help thinking it looked like a magic trick and said, "That's so cool!"

"Isn't it neat?" he said.

It really was.

Another girl gave me a care sheet and the doc's prescription for Vicodin for me, and told me how to find the upstairs pharmacy. While I waited for the prescription to be filled, my cell phone rang. It was Joe asking whether I was at home or with Victor. "Didn't you get my message?" I asked.

"What message?" he asked. For some reason, his phone never alerted him to my voice message! So I told him I was in the ER, and he was understandably and immediately worried. He asked if I wanted him to pick me up, and I wasn't sure at first. We eventually decided that would be a good idea, so Joe and his co-worker (who he'd gotten a ride from that morning) drove on over to the ER. While I waited for them outside on the shady bench, I felt exhausted and happy I was getting picked up, after all. I ate the turkey sandwich I had bought from the deli and drank some Gatorade. Then I called the wildlife museum to let them know I was okay, and Amy said she'd spread the word.

I was so happy to see Joe! He drove us home, where I relaxed, left a message on Beth's work voicemail to let her know how things had worked out, called my mom to tell her my crazy story, and then conked out on the couch.

What a way to start the weekend off! That was yesterday, and today I'm doing a bit better. I called Sabs's and Beth's house this morning, to find out how things had worked out with Victor, and to let them know I was okay and recovering. Then I ended up going back to sleep for a few more hours! The pain isn't terrible. I still haven't taken Vicodin, and I don't think I will. I'm just taking it easy.

When I woke up, Joe and I watched "Chocolat" on television. I loved it!

Also this afternoon, we went to the leasing office and signed a six month lease. We're officially staying here through November.

Afterwards, I turned in my coupon for a free strawberry smoothie at Jamba Juice. I chose Strawberry Tsunami, and had it split it into two glasses for Joe and me. It was a perfect, summery treat, and I couldn't help smiling as I alternately sipped my drink and paused to let the moments of Brain Freeze pass. Things are already getting back to normal, and I'm going to be just fine.