While I've been packing for the past two-and-a-half weeks, Didier has been completing his last days of required military service in some small town that is not close to Geneva. His service was three weeks long, ending March 11th. He gets to come home on the weekends, so we do fun stuff like wait several hours to see a doctor at the emergency clinic near the apartment. This is what we did two weekends ago. We did this because I, being the self-aware non-klutz that I am, managed to slice my thumb open with the lid from a can of tuna. It hurt, and bled a lot, but I thought I could take care of it myself. Ah, youthful fancies.
I could hardly sleep that night from the pain, so the next day after Didier arrived for the weekend, off we went to the pharmacy for a little professional advice. The man we spoke with asked to see the cut, so I peeled off my three big band aids, and to my surprise the thumb was bleeding almost as much as when I first cut it. Well! The pharmacist very kindly led me to their back room where he disinfected the cut and applied a new bandage. He got enough of a look at it, though, to tell us that it was too deep to close on its own, and we should probably have a doctor look at it. That's where the emergency clinic comes into the picture. And that's where I learned that stitches have to be done within six hours of a deep cut, so to close my thumb they used those little sticky strips and then wrapped it up with a rather impressive-looking bandage.
That was on the 26th of February. My thumb has been healing well, and I just have a little bandage now. I hadn't hurt myself in any significant way for quite a while, so I guess I was due for something like this.
My sore thumb didn't slow the packing down much, but it is hard to wash dishes with one hand.
