My Bloody Day (True Story and Essay)  

liOVERLOADil 35M
3 posts
11/8/2005 1:30 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

My Bloody Day (True Story and Essay)


The day was December twelfth, two thousand
and four, it was about twelve O’clock and as
usual, I was on my way back from church that
Sunday.

Once I arrived at the La Salle gate of
the base, I crossed my fingers in hopes that the
guards wouldn’t notice my rejected inspection
sticker. My ability to take the attention away
from the sticker had become legendary, since the
sticker had been overdue for over two months. I
had it down to a science; make eye contact, hold
ID out of window, say hello, say thank you, hold
eye contact.

When I got to my dorm room, I remembered
that Ross from work wanted to buy some RC parts
from me, I also remember the crashed RC helicopter
taking up space in my closet. Once I found my
tools, the helicopter was soon scattered in pieces
about the floor of my dorm room. Before I could
sell the parts to Ross, I had to be certain that
all the parts worked. The engine would be the
hardest to check because it runs on fuel. Although
about the size of a fist, the engine is very loud
and can be pretty smoky at times. Despite my
better judgment, my lethargy from the weekend
triumphed and I decided to test the engine
indoors. To minimize smoke and noise, I would only
use a drop or two of fuel.

I took the fuel tank and squeezed a couple
of drops into the carburetor. I then added power
to the glow plug, grasped the exhaust pipe and
attempted to start the engine. After a few moments
it was running, albeit rough. Suddenly, the engine
screamed as it spun up to a colossal speed.
Startled, I attempted to shut off the engine by
removing the glow plug. The engine quickly ended
its howl as the crankshaft came to a stop.

Still surprised, I sat there for a second
and noticed that the engine threw some strange
looking red oil on my pants. I thought “Shit, I
really liked these pants”. Upon further
inspection, I found that this red oil wasn’t oil
at all, In fact, this red substance was blood, my
blood, and it was squirting out of my wrist!

I nearly panicked as I saw how rapidly I
was bleeding. “I have to do something
immediately!” I though. Remembering my limited
self-aid training in the Air Force, I put my right
thumb over the brand new hole in my left wrist,
preventing any blood from escaping. Realizing that
I need to go to the hospital, I put on my shoes,
grabbed my keys and wallet, and shut the door to
my dorm room.

Still bleeding, I stood outside
struggling with the lock on my door. You see, when
it gets cold outside, you have to use both hands
to lock the door. One hand is used to turn the
key, the other is used to pull on the door. At the
time, I had one hand available and the other hand
preventing me from bleeding to death. At first I
tried to lock the door with one hand, but it just
wasn’t working. I then thought, “What if I keep
the hole blocked with my lips and use both
hands?”.

After a minute and a pint of blood, it
dawns on me that I won’t be getting my door locked
after all. I hastily flee towards my car. Halfway
down three flights of stairs, I remember that my
car is a stick shift and that I need both hands to
drive it.

At the bottom of the stairs, I find three
people standing around talking. “I need one of you
to drive me to the emergency room right now!” I
demand. One man volunteered but said that his car
is broken, so I handed him my pile of bloody keys
and off we went.

Upon arrival at the emergency room, I
walk in, forgetting that my pants, shirt and face
are covered in blood and casually say “I need some
help” to which they promptly reacted. I was soon
cleaned, bandaged and informed that I had severed
an artery in my wrist. Since it was the weekend,
all who where available was a partial skeleton
crew. I would have to be transported to another
hospital to see a vein surgeon.

After my ‘chariot’ ride, as the ambulance
driver put it, I’m processed into the hospital
where I am met by my first sergeant and commander.
“Oh God” goes through my mind as I realize that
this situation looks like attempted suicide. I
quell the commander and first sergeants fears as
my high spirits shine through, or perhaps it was
shock.

Various nurses and doctors came by to
check the same thing over and over only to find
exactly what I’ve been telling them…over and over.
Finally the vein surgeon arrived and began his
gruesome craft. The surgeon finds that the only
thing that was damaged was my artery and that I
was lucky to cut only that. The surgeon sutured
the artery and put six stitches in my now
Franken-wrist.

I was soon released to my dorm room, where
I came back to what looked like a brutal crime
scene. Still unsure of how I received this
laceration, I investigate my room. As I look
around the engine, I see two small pieces of metal
that belong to the clutch lying on the floor. To
the best of my knowledge, one of these small
pieces of rampaging clutch flew out from the
engine and struck my left wrist with absolute
precision. I guess Mr. Murphy was right.

Lextyranus7 56M

11/9/2005 12:52 pm

Welcome bro... Remember that Mr. Murphy has flown on more missions than you and I ever could hope to do in a thousand lifetimes.

Shit happens and always at the worst moments. Just remember, bleeding is just fear leaving your body.

Pain is temporary, wounds heal, glory is forever!

R


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