Three * and a toe

At Matt's wedding, after a drink or two (or twelve) Mark started getting a bit silly.  And at some point a glass was dropped.  The specifics of what led up to the dropping will not be disclosed.  Those of us who were there know what happened.  No blame is being placed, except to say that it was definitely not me who was sloppy enough to drop a glass.

A shard of glass flew into the air and accelerated down to the ground, piercing my big toe.  I chose to ignore this pain for a minute or two until I felt that my (borrowed) flip flop was a bit, uh, slippery.  With blood.  So I hobbled off the dance floor and grabbed a napkin to clean up.  Well the bleeding was not stopping, so in a very subdued fashion I asked Amy to find one of the doctors onsite and to tell me if I needed stitches.  I was thinking that the last thing I needed to do was go to the Altoona emergency room at midnight.

I should have looked at my poor toe before I asked for assistance, as the wound was about 1.5mm.  Not exactly stitch-worthy. 

Three doctors came to my aid.  All were 30 or younger, so I am guessing this is the first time they have been at a party and someone needed a doctor.  I am thinking this was exciting for them. 

Doctor 1 "The Resident" 
"You do not need a stitch."
"Okay, thank you!"

Doctor 2 "The Plastic Surgeon"
"Have you been drinking?" 
(Uh, is the Pope Catholic?)  "Yes"
"Okay, apply pressure and elevate for 5 minutes."
"No permanent damage?  No reconstructive surgery needed?"
"No."

Doctor 3 "The Orthopedic Surgeon" 
 "Let me take a look.  Yes, you definitely need your leg amputated at the knee.  Or maybe it is cancer.  Yes, definitely cancer."
"Awe shoot.  Can I still get a pedicure?  Oh wait!  Look at my blood.  It is hot pink!  I am so fancy!"