June 18th, 2008. It was 9:30 AM, and it was business as usual at the auto parts warehouse where I've been working for a while. I was assigned to putaways for some automotive belts and alternators. The warehouse wasn't the newest, with its old metal racking and plywood shelves, but it got the job done.
I squeezed past my loaded cart to hang up some cables - I'd done this tons of times. Nothing unusual. I was moving quicker than usual when I squeezed back to the front of the cart, in order to get out of the way of another guy. Those plywood shelves apparently had it in for me that morning. A sharp pain, a snapping sound, and I had an inch-and-a-half long splinter embedded in my right buttcheek.
Being the resourceful guy that I am, I headed over to the bathroom with a pair of needlenose pliers and my box-cutting knife to try to get the thing out. Twenty minutes of ass-handling didn't do a thing - I think I even got it in deeper. So I explained myself to my boss and got the day off work, leaving the muffled laughter of my coworkers behind me. There was a walk-in clinic not far from there. Yay for free health care!
The doctor was an nice old guy, who tried valiantly with an industrial-sized pair of tweezers to wrestle the wood from the warm confines of my butt. A brief moment of triumph as a bloody piece of wood surrendered to his efforts, nearly 3/4 of an inch long. The moment is gone once I realize that there's still more in there. Out come the surgical tools. After my cheek was more numb than Wade's soul, he cut a long incision along the track of the splinter. He couldn't find that woody offender.
So he stitched me up, gave me a tetanus shot and a prescription for antibiotics, and sent me on my way. I found later out that I had to go to ANOTHER doctor, one that my work uses, in order to get the proper forms filled out for workers comp. So out I go, to the second doctor. It was a nice old lady who called me "dahling" (not darling...dahling). I explained my situation to her, and she got concerned when I said there was still a piece in there. She whisked me off to the treatment room, where I had to wear paper clothes lie down on a table again - I was kinda getting tired of tweezers at this point. On one hand, though, she didn't open me up. On the other hand, she referred me to a surgeon, and I am to arrange an appointment with them tomorrow to get the offending object removed once and for all.
What an interesting day.
TL;DR - I got wood.