So, Monday was bad. Tuesday hasn’t been great either, but oddly enough (and this is screwy, I know), I would rather see my own blood than lose part of my book. That means I take this writing gig too seriously, right?
Anyway. I wasn’t going to head over to the hospital, but my family convinced me—and I’m glad now. Really glad. I thought the bleeding had stopped, but that was only because of my homemade tourniquet. Once that came off, my little flesh wound needed to be tied up and knotted. The poor surgeon was called in from home to help me, but he was very kind. You would have thought I had a gut wound, the way he fussed.
See my teeny-tiny bandage? Woe is me!
Tomorrow is Wednesday. Pray for me.