So on this day I saved my wife from certain doom via the evil whipping plastic cord of the weed wacker. My leg took the brunt of the attack as you can see in the below picture.
Jen flipped her lid and freaked out while I applied the necessary first aid to myself. It is a tough thing to apply Hydrogen Peroxide to your own abused flesh, but having to calm your paniced wife down while doing it only adds salt to the wound.
Needless to say, I immediately called the first person anyone would in such a situation - I called my college roomate who is now a practicing MD. Never mind that I've seen this guy do ridiculous stuff (drink out of sweaty boot?), all I need him for now is his medical know-how. He said it was all good and that he'd perscribe me some morphine for the pain if I needed it - although he recommended a beer instead.
The next logical thing to do was to call my mother. Moms know how to deal with this kind of stuff. She was over within half an hour toting a complete surgical kit. After deciding not to amputate, she left me cleaned up and well bandaged.
I followed the doctor's orders, drank a beer and put my foot up the rest of the day. The good news is that I got out of mowing the lawn, for the small price of beaten and scarred flesh, which currently looks like a bad tatoo job.