|Seriously, why didn't I get this?|
Dinner was on me tonight, as I had lost a friendly wager over a 2 out of 3 ping-pong match a couple weeks ago with my comrade. We ponied up the $10 to play at the RPAC, not knowing of a more suitable location around the area, and Sayak soundly trounced me in two straight games. It had been awhile since I had really played ping-pong, and certainly a long time since playing with any regularity. Back in the day, Nate and I would spend many-a-night in the basement at our house in East Liverpool, volleying back and forth on Grandad's homemade table. I got pretty good, although I now realize that part of my "skill" was actually found in tactics that are technically cheating.
|Scraping myself with that rock was hard enough! |
Now you're telling me it should have been sizzling?
The dinner at Elevator not only served as Sayak's victory meal, but also as a nice conclusion to my graduate degree. Prior to going to dinner I completed my last exam, turned it in, and left Fisher without further pomp or circumstance. Nothing really felt different, and no time was even given to reflection on this moment. Perhaps in the coming days the change in the weekly routine will be noticeable, but then again, perhaps not so much.
|The most important things to remember after donating blood|
is that you need to hydrate!
I went back into Fisher to the bathroom and got a paper towel to press on my arm, and then remembered that I keep a basic first aid kit in the trunk of my car. Jackpot! I knew that the kit had some band-aids in it, so my initial thought was that I was set and the problem would easily be resolved. But this merely demonstrated my lack of intelligence, because the purpose of the wrap is not only to cover the hole, but also to keep some pressure on it. Perhaps the slight trickle of blood going down my arm was weakening me more than expected! Unfazed, I went back out to my car, popped the trunk, and got out the first aid kit. At this point, part of me was thinking "This is awesome! I'm bleeding from my arm and performing pseudo-first aid on myself!" Another part of me was thinking "I hope those two nurses that are in my class don't finish their exams in the next few minutes, come outside, see me, and say 'What the hell are you doing?!'" In fact, it probably was an odd sight for anyone, this twenty-something in nice blue dress shirt and pink tie, sleeve rolled up, standing by his open car trunk outside the Fisher College of Business and apparently trying to wrap a tourniquet around his arm for some reason. The thought may have even crossed some minds, "Hmm, personally I would celebrate finishing my degree with a nice dinner at the Elevator, but I guess some people just have to shoot up." Yes, yes, nothing like a little morphine fix out of the car trunk to commemorate that Master's degree.
As noted a few moments ago, the band-aid wasn't going to cut it, as I needed something to actually apply some pressure. Unfortunately, rather than having stretchy gauze in the first aid kit, I only had some kind of athletic tape, like the kind used for wrapping sprained ankles. In other words, not stretchy, just sticky. Making due with the materials at hand, I manfully wrapped a snug tourniquet around my arm, and although the result was a bit primitive looking, it was satisfactory. Upon getting home later and gaining access to some stretchy gauze with which to replace the tape, I made a new wrap, which is now in place and will remain so for at least a few more hours. Of course, putting on the new wrap required removal of the old wrap, and as you might imagine, the tourniquet I created earlier was essentially like wrapping my arm in masking tape. So needless to say, I now have a nice ring around the middle of my arm that has significantly less hair on it than it did earlier in the day.
|Impressive. I too performed first aid on myself at a moment's notice. But tell me, how many men have you killed?|