I wish I'd never taken out the trash!

It all started out on a perfect Sunday evening. We were cleaning up the house and I decided to take out the trash. I lifted up the trash by the strings and pulled it out. I went outside with it to the dumpster. I put my left hand down on the bottom of the bag to lift it up to put in the dumpster. Unfortunately, there was a piece of broken glass sticking out of the bottom of the bag and I cut my hand below the base of my thumb. It made an inch long cut. I started screaming and then I started crying. I walked back into the house dripping blood. I washed it in the sink when I mom finally came in to see what was wrong. She told me that I probably would need stitches. She took me into her room where my dad was sleeping. (She found a perfect excuse to wake him up from his nap.) My dad called Dave and said, "you missed stitching up my thumb, so do you want to stitch up Jileigh's ?"Then my mom called Candy and asked if she would come over to babysit. Then we left. We met Dave at his clinic. He had his friend Diane with him to help. We went inside to an exam room. He put my hand in a tub of what I thought was blood, but it was diluted iodine to clean it out and prevent infection. Then the worst part was next. He had to put shots in my hand to numb it. I started to panic. So Diane told me to tell her a story. "One day my Dad was swimming with Travis and Aaron..." I started out. My mom was holding my hand so I could squeeze it. After the numbing took effect Dave put in 8 stitches to put my hand back together. Then we went home. On the way, my dad told me that I needed to keep my hand elevated and my fingers slightly curled so that it would hurt less. When we got home my dad gave me a Tylenol, but I couldn't swallow it. So my dad crushed it up and put it in some water. It tasted so nasty that afterwards water tasted sweet. Then I went to bed and went to sleep.