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During the aforementioned medical incident, a relative near my age called me the next morning in the ICU while I was waiting for a surgeon. I still didn’t know exactly what the rest of my day or the next few days were going to entail. As I relayed the details she asked for: big razor knife, big hole in my arm, severed artery, much blood, muscle damage, ambulances, hospitals, etc. she responded appropriately with mild variations of “Oh, no” and “Ouch.”

Then: “The ambulance gets here and I didn’t even have a bra on and—”