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On Monday, I was working on my last paper of the semester. I had slogged through a particularly thorny part of the theory in my argument and decided to reward myself with a break. I walked to the science building, picked up a coffee and cookie and then headed back to the Communications/Journalism building to rejoin my fellow classmates, Selin and Melanie.
Imagine this, if you will. I am sauntering down the steps to the doors when suddenly I slip on the wet metal grate and fall violently to the floor. The coffee flies into the air — never to be drunk. I hit my head. Swearing violently, I put my hand where the hurt is. Blood is starting to flow. I am a bit panicked. It’s minus ten or so and I do not want to pass out.
I hurry into the building, and into the washroom. Blood is getting all over the place. I take off my coat and a shirt, which I then press to my leaking head. Then I run up the stairs to see Selin and Mel because I really don’t know if I am going to be able to help myself. I bang on the door to the computer lab. Selin comes out. She is greeted by me showing off my bloodied head.
Along with Mel, we all go to the women’s washroom to see what can be done. I am going to have to tell this part of the story, even though it might embarrass Mel… Well, she fainted! The sight of my wound was too much, I guess. Fortunately, her collapse to the floor did not bash her head in as badly as mine did and she was quickly revived with a splash of water.
Wouldn’t you know it, not too long afterwards, I was wrapped up like a Christmas present by the parademics and taken off to the hospital for stitches. I got a total of nine. I’ve been telling everyone ten — rounding up to be more impressive, I suppose. Selin even took a picture of me on the hospital bed with a funny-looking towel thing on my head.
I am going to watch my step from now on. That is my second winter wipe-out. Montreal is treacherous at this time of year! Take care, everyone!