I should probably not pursue a career in medicine

So yesterday me and my homies (Granny, Roommate, and "Steve") smoked in my room and then I went to the kitchen to get water and next thing I know, "Steve" comes to the sink and starts rinsing blood off his hand... He wounded himself with a splinter. Apparently he ripped it out of his finger using his teeth (!) and it wouldn't stop bleeding. At this point I was so stoned that I started freaking out. Even after rinsing the blood off his hand, it kept coming out. Then he said he needed to go lie down. This whole time I kept saying "You need to call somebody! Why aren't we calling somebody?" And he kept saying: "I'll just wait a little while" which made no sense to me. If you're dying, why should you wait until you're more dead to call someone to fix you? When "Steve" went home, I was convinced he was going to die before morning.

Apparently though, it was just a splinter wound. And I felt better after eating a donut and muffin and falling asleep.