Bang on.

Do you remember that funny story about how that one time, when I was traveling in Turkey with my husband and kids, a heavy window dropped on my thumb when I was trying to close it? And then how it startled someone outside so that they screamed, and for a split second I thought someone else was hurt, not me, but then I pulled my hand away from the window and my thumb nail was already black, and then I fainted?

And do you remember how I spent the whole night in the tiny bathroom at our guest house, alternatively holding my hand under the cool water and then keeping it out because it hurt too much? It was one of the longest nights of my life, and I tried to sing, and I prayed for all my friends who are sick or in pain, up at night anywhere by themselves trying to breathe deeply, because it's a terrible thing.

And then do you remember how the next morning I went to the internet room at the guest house to try and see what should be done for nailbed injury, and when I was reading about it with my hand resting on a bag of ice, I fainted again?  It was probably the part about putting any severed parts in a plastic bag which got to me.  But the young and long-haired Turkish guy in the internet room freaked out and ran off to get my husband, yelling, "Your wife!  Problem! She is sick!  Come now!" and then turning around and running back.

And then there was the bus ride, painful and long, and the hospital visit, surprisingly cheap, where they drilled four holes in my thumb nail and let out big pools of blood and finally... relief!

Yeah, that was a pretty funny story.