This is all very, very yucky. I'm even queasy.
So let me tell you this... Last night I had to drive to Buffalo (about 85 miles from where I am) to help my father-in-law carry a washing machine down their narrow stairway to their basement.
Whist hoisting this monstrosity (the machine, not my...) something sharp sliced my wrist. Now, this is a rather gory slice, and it happens to be about an inch long, and follows the course of a vein quite perfectly. A pound more of pressure and it may have been deep enough to send me to the hospital.
So there I am looking like Carrie on prom night, (it did bleed quite spectacularly none the less) and I'm trying to bandage it. My wife is out picking up a pizza, and my mother-in-law is sitting at the table Windex-ing items for a yard sale the next morning. I have bandage tape in my teeth, trying to rip a piece long enough to cover the gauze with my teeth, and one good hand/wrist.
I could have died right there, and the mother-in-law would have continued to polish the yard sale bric-a-brac.
Now, I'm not one to complain... but, really!
Hamlet's father.