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	<title>Liz Argall &#187; anecdote</title>
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	<link>http://lizargall.com</link>
	<description>Freelance writer</description>
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		<title>Little liz &#8211; the accident prone years</title>
		<link>http://lizargall.com/2009/05/little-liz-the-accident-prone-years/</link>
		<comments>http://lizargall.com/2009/05/little-liz-the-accident-prone-years/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 03 May 2009 12:55:55 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Liz</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[clarion]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[News update]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[anecdote]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[injuries]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://lizargall.com/?p=208</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[&#8230; no the accident prone years would mean just about any year. I am writing this with a strapped finger after getting a deep slash in my finger while examining suitcases. I wrote up this anecdote to share with my Co-Clarionaters, we&#8217;re getting to know each other and Mr Nicholas Bede Stenner suggested we share [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>&#8230; no the accident prone years would mean just about any year. I am writing this with a strapped finger after getting a deep slash in my finger while examining suitcases.</p>
<p>I wrote up this anecdote to share with my Co-Clarionaters, we&#8217;re getting to know each other and Mr <span class="post-author"> Nicholas Bede Stenner</span><span class="post-timestamp"> suggested we share funny (which to me means embarrassing) stories. I shall share it with you as well.<br />
</span><br />
The scene. Midnight, an eight year old Liz is cutting up a chocolate syrup bottle with stanley knife (box cutter). The plastic is really hard and I am tired and impatient and get careless. The stanley knife suddenly swishes really smoothly through plastic and over one of my fingers.</p>
<p>There&#8217;s a lot of blood. Everyone is sleeping and I know I shouldn&#8217;t be up and I don&#8217;t want to bother anyone and I don&#8217;t want to get into trouble so I stifle any kind of sound and try to apply first aid.</p>
<p>My parents, woken by random sounds and movements late at night find a bathroom with blood splats and a messy pile of bandaids that keep floating off.</p>
<p>My parents say &#8220;What&#8217;s going on?&#8221; with some urgency.</p>
<p>I hide my hand behind my back and say &#8220;nothing&#8221; convinced I am going to be in the biggest trouble ever for being so stupid with a knife.</p>
<p>I don&#8217;t get into trouble at all and am whisked off to hospital where I get a tetanus shot, many local anesthetic injections and get two stitches. I watch with fascination as the thread passes through my flesh and somewhere in the back of my head I&#8217;m thinking &#8220;Wow this will make a great story.&#8221;</p>
<p>I&#8217;m particularly pleased that I will remember this as I&#8217;m still cross that I don&#8217;t remember breaking my leg when I was three &#8217;cause that was really cool and my leg bent at a funny angle. It&#8217;s very unfair I don&#8217;t remember breaking my leg especially because my brother says that when you break a limb it heals to be stronger and so my chances of ever having a broken leg again have been reduced by 50%.</p>
<p>I get a day off school to recover and I traumatise my little sister for years and years with slow graphic descriptions of watching needle and thread go through flesh.</p>
<p>Even at eight everything was material to observe and absorb to use for later and my technique for any kind of trauma or scary thing is &#8220;this will be useful material&#8221;.</p>
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