A Stitch and Lecture

While being incredibly stupid at work 2 Thursdays ago I cut open my thumb. Here's a piece of advice: don't try to clear out a paper jam in a shredder with a pair of scissors. When I was still bleeding almost (and the almost is very important) six hours after the incident, my friend and coworker, Randi, insisted that we go to urgent care. I questioned the quality of care I was going to be given when the intake nurse didn't know how to spell scissors, but that was only the beginning.

My doctor, who affectionately referred to himself as Father Doctor Martinez, was...well, crazy. The following is a list of all the ridiculous things that happened that night.

• After the nurse told me I only needed to have a tetanus if I hadn't had one in the last 10 years (which I had), dr told me I need one if I hadn't had one in the last 5 years (which I had not). For most this might not be a big deal, but for someone who has a totally irrational fear of needles this is not okay. Dr. fed me some BS about how statistically the shot only lasts for 5 years in 50% of the population while it lasts for 10 in the other 50% and since there was no way of knowing which 50% I was in I would have to get the shot.
• Dr. was a big fan of statistics...made up statistics that is. When I came in he asked what time I cut my finger. It happened 15 minutes shy of 6 hours before he asked me this question. He then started to lecture me about not coming in earlier. He left the room and came back 5 minutes later with a graph that looked like this:He then proceeded to explain this graph to me, until Randi interrupted him and said, "As law students, I think we can read a graph." By the time he finished his little rant, it had been 6 hours since I cut my hand. If he had just put the damn stitch in when I first came in his whole little speech would have been unnecessary.
  
• First he told me I couldn't have stitches because I waited to long to come in (see above) then he decided I needed a stitch because the cut probably wouldn't stay shut and heal on its own. He then gave me the choice of whether or not I wanted novacaine or not. However, he wouldn't just straight up make a recommendation, though he did tell me a story about 12 times about how when he was a kid his dad put 9 stitches in the bottom of his foot without any novacaine. Since I'm so awesome (read: afraid of needles) I opted for being stabbed only twice (instead of 4 times) and got my stitch without any medication. It hurt like hell, but was over soon enough.
  
• While stitching me up dr told me to think of that boy I used to like in high school, who was all dreamy, but I could never talk to...and who ignored me....awkward silence followed.
• When asked the list of questions about smoking, drugs, and alcohol I responded, no, no, and not habitually. Dr went off about how even "Father Doctor Martinez" needs to party every once in a while. He also told me and Randi that he was going to dress up as Barack Obama's twin brother for halloween and how he might need a bullet proof vest...another awkward silence.
  

Believe it or not there is more, but this entry is already long enough and I don't think that words can really express how ridiculous that trip to urgent care was. In closing I leave you a picture taken by Randi on her iPhone while Doctor Father Martinez cleaned my cut (I don't know why the pic is so small...but my face pretty much says it all).