"Let it bleed ..."
Went to go visit a friend, somewhere in Eastern Europe. Ramshackle building, call it rustic, the lights were out on the 2nd and 3rd floor. Nobody home at this late hour, so I skipped on down and headed out to the street level. I was almost all the way down to safety, when I missed a stair in the dark, lost my footing, and went flying. Felt like some demon pushed me from behind. But then (if that's true), my guardian angel stepped right in and I caught my balance. I was suprised how quickly I regained my balance, actually, because it could've been pretty ugly. Think quick! Said to myself in a split second, "This is the moment where you either grab something, break your fall, or break your neck ..." Nothing metaphysical here, naw, just missed a stair. But I was still falling, reached out for a railing or something solid, and hit some metal or glass along the wall in the dark. Felt like crocodile teeth. Felt a piece of my hand go rrrip and remain right back there on the railing. Mmmm, that warm feeling. Hit the bottom on my feet, and told myself repeatedly, "It's not so bad - I'll be fine - this is the moment where I HEAL myself." And it was so. Tune in. Then I looked down at my hand, and it was dripping a nice shade of redblue liquid. Oh, great. It wasn't as bad as it looked, but there was a big tear down my palm, and blood was oozing all over. OK, remember that Boy Scout training. Took a deep breath, and walked around the corner to a pizza stand to wait until the bleeding stopped. Strolled in, and the guy goes, "Holy shit! You're bleeding, we gotta wrap that up right now!" It was his language of choice, but I understood, and he ran out to his car to get tape and bandages. He even wrapped it up and put a big ambulance-ready bandage on it for me. The whole time he was looking at my hand intently, and smoking a cigarillo. "Knife?" he asked. "Nope," I answered, "dark hall, banana peel." Smile. He'd never seen me before, and here he was going out of his way to help. How it oughtta be. Great, full. He instantly became someone I admire. Then I sat back and took a look at myself in the mirror, and saw that there was quite a bit o' crimson all over me. A nice couple came in, and I tried to smile all friendly their way, but I just probably looked like Fight Club, or something. I said to my man, "I'll have, um, a coffee." It was mis-spelled on the menu, but if that wasn't just REAL. Real people, real pain, a real rescue team in a smokey KAFFE shop somewhere ...
My hand will be fine - it's been making steady progress the last few days, and I can already play the guitar. What did I learn from this? Either 1. Live in the west where the lights work, or 2. Bring a candle ... Peace. -Todd
Posted by calico at January 07, 2006 09:24 PM