About 10 years ago I was in the border town of Brownsville, TX, traveling back and forth between the United States and Mexico. A group of 26 of us were doing a variety of missions-related tasks...medical relief, feeding and clothing the poor, building projects, etc.

During one of these building projects, we were performing some demolition work to one of the housing facilities. A piece of plywood suddenly detached from a bathroom stall as I was walking by, striking me in the face just below my left eye. The resulting gash was large enough to require stitches.

I went to the medical supplies that I had accumulated during my stay. I found the smallest guage needle available and went to work on the wound. After a couple of passes, I realized that the needle was too large to complete the closure, and I resigned myself to professional medical care.

The attending physician repeatedly asked me, "what was it exactly that happened to your eye?"

He was not impressed with my bravery.