He’s Crazy, But Can’t Quite Put His Finger On Why

(In the middle of a major snowstorm, my fiancé starts feeling incredibly under the weather. Not taking the risk, I get him to the doctor, taking an hour to drive a usual ten-minute drive because of road conditions. I decide to stay in the waiting room and read. It’s just me and the receptionist in the front when a man holding his arm oddly comes in.)

Man: “I’m here for an appointment.”

Receptionist: “Yes, are you…” *trails off and pales* “Uh…”

Man: “I’m [Man], here about my hand.”

Receptionist: “I’m sorry; it says here you cut your finger off?”

(I look up from my book, completely horrified, and now notice the man has a very bloody towel around his hand.)

Man: “I was cutting wood and missed. It’s safer to drive here than the hospital.”

Receptionist: “You need to go to the emergency room right now. I’m calling you an ambulance!”

Man: *turns to me* “She’s overreacting, right?”

Me: *notices he’s carrying a sandwich bag with a FINGER IN IT* “Absolutely not!”

(He kept protesting, but eventually got into the ambulance and left. I told my fiancé about it after the fact, but he’d thought it was a fever dream. The kicker? The doctor’s office was at the top of a hill, while the nearest hospital was maybe half a mile away in a very open area, much easier to get to in snow.)