Ah the sting of freshly sliced flesh.
I cleaned it with alcohol and a swab and am going to a doctor tomorrow. But in the end, I'm excited at the possibility of it scarring. There's something about the ways that experiences make marks upon the body that I love. As if they remind you that this body is really yours. That you have lived together and been through shit and though maybe you don't always get along perfectly, you love and appreciate each other. And I can't wait to someday tell some relative of a younger generation how I got that semi-circular mark, the size of half a dime, just below my knee on the outside of my right leg, that fateful day while doing fieldwork in Bolivia.