Hey. I’m Matt’s thumb, and this is my very first guest post on his blog. I had a great time camping with Matt over Labor Day. Well, mostly a good time…
See, the first day of the trip seemed to be a little bit cursed. Matt was super tired after a long drive right after church, and he was running out of daylight. Matt and his wife tried to quickly set up their tent and getting dinner going while a ton of gnats bothered them.
Luckily, there was a ton of firewood laying nearby, so I suggested to Matt that we go grab some and get a fire going before it got dark. We hadn’t been there more than 30 minutes. As Matt pointed me toward the first piece of firewood, I saw something that looked rather dangerous, but for some reason, I didn’t say anything.
You’ve heard of those guys who get nails shot into their brains and stuff like that and live? Well this wasn’t a nail, but it was still pretty freaking hardcore. That very first piece of wood that I tried to grab, well, it had a huge splinter right on the end, much like a nail made of wood. We’re talking about 3/8s of an inch (or 1 cm). And as I went to grab that firewood, that gosh darn splinter somehow shot itself instantly right into my head, right underneath my nail!
Here I am posing with my injury, next to a dime so you can see how big and manly I am compared to a dime. I look pretty beat up. Sorry about that. I’m a little embarassed by my appearance, as I usually try to maintain a trim figure and nice white half moon. There wasn’t a first aid station at the park we were camped at. Since we were in the middle of nowhere, there was no nearby hospital either, and I think you can tell I was in no condition to hitchhike for help. So I’ve had this thing stuck there for a couple of days now, but don’t worry. I’m okay. And through this experience, I learned a few things about Matt, and I’d like to think about life.
Chicks Dig Scars
It’s got to be true. Women are drawn to men who have been injured. Now, Matt doesn’t have any major battle scars. His scars are from landing his knuckle on the oven element, or being splashed with hot water. He’s never even broken a bone, or ruptured both his achilles tendons like Eugene Cho! But you should’ve seen the attention I was getting from Matt’s wife. Matt was even getting jealous of me. I could see it in his eyes.
That being said…
Chicks Probably Dig Scars More When the Guy Isn’t Being a Huge Crying Baby
Matt likes to put up a big front. He likes to talk about if a burglar came into our house, or someone tried to mug him and his wife that he’d bust some chops, roll some heads, and throw some roundhouse kicks around. But after this experience with him, I have my doubts…
I firmly told Matt to calm down and that he was looking foolish, but he was squeezing me pretty tight, and running around rather frantically, so he didn’t hear me over his wimpering. He was shouting something pretty incoherant about first aid. Matt’s no wimp, mind you. I helped him canoe across 50 miles of northern wilderness, twice. But the guy’s just got no threshold for pain, and it’s pathetic. I don’t know how that dude was able to free himself from beneath a fallen boulder by sawing his own arm off, but my hat is off to him. It’s a good thing I wasn’t having a baby, because I think Matt may have fainted. I think once he realized I wasn’t going to give him blood poisoning or anything, he finally chilled. I was the one with a wooden spike in my head, and I never lost my cool.
One last thing I noticed while Matt was totally freaking out.
It’s Amazing How Something so Small Can Ruin Your Day
I’ll admit, having a wooden spike rapidly shoved into my head was pretty inconvenient for me. I’m an important guy. People look to me for leadership, as the one opposable digit on the entire hand. But I’m not even the thumb Matt uses most. He’s left handed. I don’t even help him on his blog! The worn out spot on his space bar proves that I’m just along for the ride while lefty does all the spacing. Sure, I won’t be able to give the old thumbs up for a while, but it’s all right. Middle finger has promised to pick up my slack while I’m laid up.
Of all the things that could’ve happened, this wasn’t the worst, by far. In fact, just that morning, Matt got a call from his friend whose Dad had a brain tumor that had to be removed. And just before I became impaled, Matt and I drove about five hours and not once did we get into a multi-car collision, flip the vehicle, drive off a cliff and blow up. Not even once.
Yet while Matt was frantically searching for a non-existent first aid station, he was totally acting like this was the worst thing ever, like we might as well have had a car accident. How could God put that splinter there? And after Matt totally gave a kicking sermon about Him just that morning! But that’s how people are I guess. They have their plans, and they get really bent out of shape when a splinter comes along. And they tend to forget when that splinter is really hurting that their biggest problems are already taken care of by a God who loves them.
It’s always good to have a life lesson in a near death experience. What’s the worst injury you’ve had? Did you find you have a high or low threshold for pain? When was the last time your day got ruined by something small?