November 18

Just a few minutes into my basketball game, I found myself struggling against the sub-par competition. I was missing layups, getting the rebound, missing again, getting the rebound and finally scoring. My field goal percentage would have been a solid average for a baseball player. On one of my missed-layup streaks, I jumped up for a rebound and scored, only to find a stream of blood flowing down my forearm. I wiped the blood off on my shirt as I ran back down the court. About 12 seconds later, I saw a puddle of blood on the court and noticed that I was bleeding profusely. Great. Black-eyes are cool and signify toughness, but a deep cut across my wrist would probably elicit a different type of assumption. I had sliced my wrist on a sharp piece of metal that was protruding from the missing padding at the bottom of the backboard.

The Emergency Room welcomed me with a fresh aroma of Clorox mixed with a hint of vomit. I signed in fully expecting to wait a minimum of 5 hours and briskly walked back outside to exhale.

I was surprised to hear my name called after only 10 minutes. I had my vitals tested three times and answered 47 about my home-life, stability, alcohol and drug consumption, and depression—testing for a suicide attempt. I again reiterated that I love myself and wouldn’t consider taking my own life.

Up to this point, I was beyond irritated with the whole experience. I had a midterm the following morning, which barring a miracle, would be returned with an F; I hate hospitals (aforementioned aroma) and there were tons—several—a couple other things that I could have been doing with my time. And then walked in the doctor.

Dr. Moss was an amalgamation of the cast and crew of the Star Wars trilogy. I heard his voice while we were separated only by a curtain and I thought, “gosh, he sounds like the main Klingon in Star Trek.” I know that’s not a part of the Star Wars trilogy but I’m sure Luke, Captain Kirk, etc. will cross paths at some point. Dr. Moss walked in and standing before me was who must have been the twin brother of George Lucas. He had that gray and white Mexican-style perm, the beard and a neck that transitioned right into his lower lip just like Lucas. As he came closer I noticed his eyebrows, which were twisted at the ends and turned upward, slightly resembling an Ewok (weird, I really think he used gel to keep the shape). I couldn’t figure out if I was excited or nervous about him stitching me up.