127 Seconds

  And then there are the obvious hazards of stonemasonry... I was working on carving out a large corner stone for an outdoor fireplace on Saturday, very large--it was about the size of a Volkswagon Beetle.  The stone was sitting awkwardly on a smaller stone as I chiseled, so I reached down to remove it, whereupon the whole mass just keeled over rapidly and slammed down hard on my left hand, pinning it to the ground.  I screamed like a baby and tried to pull it out, but it would not budge.  That's when I realized I would have to cut my arm off in order to be free, just like in that movie.  However, I could not find a dull pocketknife or can opener, so I just screamed some more for one of the other masons to release me.  They were all sleeping, as it was Saturday morning and most of them were hung-over, and so no one could hear me whining.  I was then forced, and aided by some kind of adrenaline-fueled panic, to pick the stone up with my good hand, which I succeeded miraculously in doing. That's when I saw my finger and the horrible bloody mess it had become--it was doing that weird squirting thing that usually happens just before you bleed to death.
  Damon was good enough to drive me 30 minutes to the emergency room at Miles Hospital in Damariscotta, where they did a fine job of sewing me up and reassuring me that I would get to keep my arm.  I was the only person in the ER, so my wait was relatively short. The nice lady at the front desk kept telling me about the wonderful cheeseburgers they were serving in the cafeteria, though, which was quite upsetting, as I was bleeding to death and had not yet eaten lunch.  "I'm going to go get one," I told her.
  "No," she said.  "You are not allowed to eat."
  "Why not?"
  "Because you're bleeding to death," she said.
  "Then why did you tell me about the cheeseburgers?" I asked.
  "Because they are delicious," she replied.
  She wasn't the only one.  The nurses kept talking about cheeseburgers and one of them even said, "It's a shame you can't eat, because the burgers today are excellent."  Even my doctor, who was otherwise quite professional and careful with the stitching, kept leaving my room intermittently to go eat cheeseburgers out in the hall.  I think they should change the name of the hospital from Miles to McMiles.  They're lovin' it, I guess.