Still learning about him

Saturday night around 10:00 PM I was laying in bed watching a really crap movie. I heard Mike come in from working in the garage and then heard from the hall, "Jess?". It wasn't a quick loud "Jess?" like where are you? but definitely more of an I need you, Jess.

"What's wrong?"
"Can you come here?"

I got up and walked into the hall and there's Mike leaning against the wall.
"I got something in my finger."

"Ok. Do you need to go to the emergency room?"
"No, but I'm whoozy."

So I helped him to the couch and sat him down so that I could assess the situation all the while thinking he's been poisoned. He was dripping wet and very pale. Down the side of his index finger were two large scrapes/cuts and then near the tip I could tell he had a large metal splinter.

"Mike, lets go to the emergency room."
"No, just get it out, " he manages to slur out.
"When was your last Tetanus shot?"
"Last year."

So I ran some tweezers and manicure scissors under scalding water and went to work. He was so wet I thought for sure he had splashed cold water on his face while I was prepping my surgical tools. Getting out the broken jagged piece of metal was trying work partly because it wasn't on a 45 degree angle like most splinters but more like a 70 degree angle if not more. Mike's heavy breathing and inability to sit up straight were also no help.

"Mike, I'm not qualified for this. Look at you, you have to go the emergency room. I think this metal poisoned you."
"brah brate hrroodd."
"What!?"
"I hate blood."

That explains it. It was difficult not to laugh and say, are you serious? Aww, my tough guy hates blood.

"Just get it out."
"Ok, I'm going to cut the skin around the opening so I have a larger opening."
"Please don't tell me what you do, just do it."

So I changed my insertion point and finally got hold and slowly and carefully got this piece of scrap metal out of Mike's finger. I took it over to the pharmacist who said he should be fine since his Tetanus shot was within the past year and a half and I got some peroxide and bandages with antibiotics.

I came home and Mike was looking better but not fully there.

"Do you feel ok?"
"Yeah, I just hate blood."
"Do you want a shot of whiskey?"
"Yes."

After the shot, Mike was pretty much fine and back to his self which meant I could start teasing him about the whole blood thing.

"So you're covered in tattoos, but you hate blood?"
"That's not surprise blood - it's on purpose."

Makes sense.

"So, Mike, if I needed you to cut metal out of my finger, would you do it?"
"I'd have to take you to the emergency room."