I am a Scoutmaster, among other things.
One time about 3 years ago . . . OK, it was March 28, 2005, and I was getting ready to work my 2 hour shift from home, and while I was waiting for my computer to warm up, I was working on a walking stick that I was carving for Scouts. It had a piper on the top, and a dragon just above the handle, and has since gotten lots of celtic decoration in between.
You know the rules, of course: Carve away from yourself. Make sure there's nobody in your immediate vicinity (called the "blood circle") you could accidentally cut. Use a sharp knife.
I was doing all those things, especially carving away from myself. I neglected to notice, because in general I do not pay attention, that my left HAND was out there in the line of fire from my right hand holding the knife and carving outward.
Did I tell you I am a Murphy??
Murphy's Law, to which I am a slave, states that if anything can go wrong, it will, and at the worst possible moment.
Yes, the knife slipped. And I was scheduled to start work in 5 minutes..
I cut a clean 2.5 inch cut across my left palm at the base of my index finger. Blood like you have never seen!! I ran to the bathroom and ran cold water on it, to no avail. A washcloth pressed on the wound did seem to stop the blood, but I couldn't take the pressure off, and I had to start work. I grabbed a . . . tie or something, I forget what . . . tied the washcloth tightly to my hand and worked my shift one-handed. Everybody was at work or school, so I had to drive myself to the emergency room, where I got 13 stitches. I now have a rather large scar. Luckily I didn't cut any tendons, so I can, of course, still play.
This is where my nickname comes from. Now you know the rest of the story.