My story-of-the-week starts with a heavy bag of books and an umbrella taking up my hands. I am returning to the library, towards the end of my shift. I fling open the heavy mailroom door in my hurry to get out of the downpour. Floor is wet. Down goes Anna. Hand flies back. Pinky crunches under aforementioned heavy mailroom door. I look back in horror and squeeze out my pinky, expecting to see the half-severed tip dangling in the air. It is intact (for now). I make a paper towel detour and rush upstairs, imagining an emergency visit and the death of the end of my littlest finger.
Ms. Lori quickly volunteers to accompany me to Student Health; one minute I am leaning against the wall of the elevator, the next I am waking up from a strange dream about high-rise buildings and bells ringing in the background. I hear people shouting something about a girl having a seizure in the elevator.
After that, events play out pretty smoothly. The Homewood fire department/ambulance people arrive. The nice Campus Security man gives me a ride back in the golf cart. The nice Student Health nurse gives me a tetanus shot and a Snoopy band-aid. I still have all of my pinky finger. All is right with my world.
So yes, I fainted for the very first time, over nothing more than a badly cut finger. I feel sufficiently ridiculous. And plan on passing out often from now on because you get to ride in a golf cart.
***
In other news, I'm re-discovering how much I love Samford people and Samford itself. I have a poetry class that I think will be my heart this semester. Yes, I will pour my life-blood into the thing that promises to give me endless frustration and will never put food on the table or pay the water bill. What do I get in return? The joy of obedience.
1 comment:
Be like Jo acting out her own scripts. . . *waver* "Oo o o oo h..." *faint*
The one time I fainted, dad told me to stand up and act normal. For some reason he assumed I was faking. . .
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