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Splinter

A silly thing happened to me this past weekend; a tiny wood splinter got stuck in my hand and as much as I tried, I couldn’t get it out.
Wedged under my skin, it was so tiny you could barely see it. I picked at it with tweezers for hours, but it only made the skin around it sore.
It’s remarkable how a tiny speck can make one so miserable – I imagined life with a splinter permanently embedded in my hand, and the possibility of losing my hand from infection.
Drama aside, the internet can be dangerous enabler when you’re desperate, I almost hacked off my fingers with an X-Acto knife.
Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed, I didn’t get to play doctor with a sharp knife.
I went to the urgent care centre first thing the next morning, where a nice doctor after a shot of local anaesthesia, broke the skin open and got the splinter out.

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So how did I manage to get a sharp piece of wood stuck inside my palm?
The bloody train tracks! That’s how.

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