I’m afraid of scissors. And knives. Basically, anything that has the potential to cut me. Not for the normal “cutting your fingers hurts” reason. I’m allergic to stitches. I know. This makes me even more ridiculous than you had previously thought.
I’ve never cut myself badly enough to need stitches, but I have had to have a few moles removed. The first time they took one off to make sure I didn’t have the dreaded cancer, they gave me one stitch. It hurt really badly all week. No one believed me. Everyone thought I was being a giant baby, and when the day finally came to get the stitch out, the nurse freaked. My body had been rejecting my stitch, and the skin was blistered and gross. The nurse had to get the doctor. The doctor said, “Well… you’re young. You’ll heal.”
I went home, tried to put on pajamas, and the hole ripped open as though there had never been a stitch at all. I screamed bloody murder and bled all over the place. It was terrible.
Now when I break a glass or wash a knife, I’m terrified. I don’t want stitches! Carving a pumpkin is more frightening than all the creepy children running around in costume on Halloween. So, next time you buy a pumpkin carving saw and read the whole “Use at your own risk,” consider this. If I needed ten stitches from trying to carve Toothless the dragon into my pumpkin, what would they do? I’m thinking an ingenious combination of dental floss and super glue.