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Embarrassing. Pen Leak Mistaken For Medical Emergency.


Centopar
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My colleagues are used to my fountain pen habit. Some have even picked up one of their own. And everybody knows not to ask me for a pen if what they want is a biro.

 

So usually, I don't think about it. Nothing unusual going on here, many of us like nice pens, let's get on with our working day, and that's that.

 

This afternoon, my secretary started screaming. She recovered a little and shouted "GET THE FIRST AID KIT!" down the corridor. People came to the door, stopped as soon as they got there, and started making sharp intakes of breath. I thought someone was grievously injured. And then I realised it was me.

 

I've just bought a "new" (to me) Waterman 53. I'd filled it the night before; what I hadn't realised was that the nib wasn't set properly. When I uncapped there was a fair bit of ink in the cap, and it blobbed straight from the nib all over the page when I first started using it, so I put it to one side. Turns out that starting it led to it leaking like...a severed artery. All the ink in the reservoir evacuated in one go (I wish I understood the physics of this - it was very impressive). I hadn't realised, but there was a pool of Diamine Oxblood all over the desk and many of my books - and worst of all, my dress and cardigan were soaking it all up from one wrist, making me look as if I'd been busy trying to end it all over some lousy Christmas results.

 

Turns out that there's nothing in the world that looks more like fresh blood than fresh Oxblood. At least this is what my colleagues thought, and my secretary had to be stopped from calling an ambulance; in retrospect "It's not blood! It's ink! Smell it!" may not have been the most considered response.

 

I have had to do a lot of mopping. I am taking my secretary out for dinner tomorrow and buying her a box of chocolates (we are both married women, so this is not inappropriate) to apologise for nearly giving her a heart attack. I have ruined some new notebooks, some old reference books, a load of papers for work and the diary refill I was working on. It is all over the office carpet. There is, for some reason, some up one of the walls about eight feet from my desk. I can't understand how one tiny rubber sac of ink managed to spread so far, so fast. (No jokes about "Who would have thought the old pen to have so much ink in him?", please.)

 

I need to buy a bottle of wine for the cleaner.

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:doh: Yeah, that's a good one.

 

I once mixed some Noodler's Red Devil with some other red ink and the cartridge overflowed as I syringed the mixture into it. I alarmed myself when I saw the bright red drop coming up next to and onto my fingers. I've managed to see quite a bit of my own blood in the past so this was maybe a ptsd thing. It was quite the half second of adrenaline boost though.

 

But now you have a great fountain pen related story to tell everyone.

 

On a sacred quest for the perfect blue ink mixture!

ink stained wretch filling inkwell

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Great story, thanks for sharing!

 

Sorry to hear everything got covered in ink though, but in some time, you'll definitely laugh about this :)

Somehow there can't be just a small spillage in such events, reminds me of a story where a colleague managed to get coffee all over the machine, wall and even ceiling when he dropped his cup onto the counter :lol:

 

Kind of funny you mention this: "I am taking my secretary out for dinner tomorrow and buying her a box of chocolates (we are both married women, so this is not inappropriate)", the thought of such a gesture being inappropriate after such an event would never come to mind, I find it rather thoughtful of you.

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One of my colleagues related a story about the time when his military jeep overturned and he hit his sternum on the steering wheel. He felt what he thought was blood, but it was only ink from his smashed fountain pen.

Edited by Blade Runner
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I guess it's kind of nice that my colleagues can be counted on not to leave me to bleed to death if it looks as if I've tried to end it all. Feel awful for giving them such a fright, though. I don't think I'd really appreciated just how gory Oxblood can look in large amounts.

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Yeah, I'd noticed that, ah, property of Oxblood just from small stains on my hands, although thankfully this was after my poor husband had been indoctrinated to Ink Faux Injuries (he mistook a whole bunch of Private Reserve Plum for some kind of horrible burn/bruise/something--it was my first time filling a fountain pen so I was much clumsier at it) so no one called an ambulance.

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Goodness, you must have given them quite a shock. They must be relieved that you are not suicidal. Too bad about the ink getting everywhere, though sometimes it feels like that is ink's life purpose. I don't envy you the clean up. Now you have a grand ink tale to tell.

~ Manisha

 

"A traveller am I and a navigator, and everyday I discover a new region of my soul." ~ Kahlil Gibran

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I lose one or two shirts per year to ink "mishaps" in my breast pocket. Never had a red ink leak before, though.

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Now that was a story! I'm glad all is well, though, and also that there would have been aid nearby had there been a true emergency.

Scribere est agere.

To write is to act.

___________________________

Danitrio Fellowship

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Turns out that there's nothing in the world that looks more like fresh blood than fresh Oxblood. At least this is what my colleagues thought, and my secretary had to be stopped from calling an ambulance; in retrospect "It's not blood! It's ink! Smell it!" may not have been the most considered response.

 

 

Wonderful story! I mean, except for the damage. Well told, though. Glad everyone has pulled through!

_________________

etherX in To Miasto

Fleekair <--French accent.

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One of my colleagues related a story about the time when his military jeep overturned and he hit his sternum on the steering wheel. He felt what he thought was blood, but it was only ink from his smashed fountain pen.

 

Sorry - remember where you're posting. We need to know the make/model of pen, the ink concerned and whether the pen could be repaired.

 

No marks so far but keep going - and before/after repair images score extra points. :D

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I had a medical emergency last night.

I thought I had a hole in my heart, but on double-checking, I found a polo mint in my shirt pocket.

Long reign the House of Belmont.

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Also, pix or it didn't happen!

A number of years ago I was making a boar's head out of marzipan and didn't know back then how to use paste food coloring (this was for an SCA Twelfth Night event that my husband was the head cook for). I was using red and black. I kept putting my finger in my mouth, and then realizing what I'd done, and going to the bathroom to wash my hands and mouth. I don't know *how* many people said to me (at various times over the course of the day) "Your lip is bleeding!" and me saying "No, it's food coloring...."
What I *didn't* know is that besides the red coloring around my mouth, I had a smudge of black around my eye. Which looked just like what you'd guess. And so my poor husband, who was already pretty stressed by trying superintend a feast for, IIRC, a couple hundred people -- for which there were three different tiers (with the people who had paid the most getting their choice, table by table of what they wanted to eat, the middle level getting what the first group didn't want, and the bottom tier got stew and boiled cracked wheat and whatever filtered down from the middle level) -- was suddenly having very large people who like to hit each other with wooden sticks for fun coming up to him in a menacing way going "Everything all RIGHT at home???"
On the plus side though, he made the eyes (and one eyelid) for the boar's head out of hard crack candy, and I ran a wire through a straw to hook onto the eyelid as I was putting the thing together (which mostly involved piling 18 lbs of homemade marzipan together and molding it into a head (solid black for the head and ears, solid red for the apple in its mouth, kneaded in red for the tongue, and uncolored for the tusks). And during the feast, when it was presented to High Table (to the tune of "The Boar's Head Carol", of course ) the guy who presented it pulled on the wire and it winked at the Princess, and she jumped back about two feet.... Years and years later she came up to Steve and me at something and asked if she had been hallucinating; only to be told, "Nope, it really *did* wink at you!"
Sadly, I have no photos of the boar's head, winking or otherwise. Didn't think to bring a camera to the event. And after it got presented it got put on the dessert sideboard table, where a piranha feeding frenzy ensued....
Ruth Morrisson aka inkstainedruth

"It's very nice, but frankly, when I signed that list for a P-51, what I had in mind was a fountain pen."

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That's hilarious! I've given people a fright when they open my trash can and see paper towels soaked in Diamine Red Dragon after I've cleaned my pen.

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  • 3 weeks later...

A habit I acquired from my dad is to nearly always carry a pen in my top shirt pocket. It happens to be right where car seatbelts tend to cross. I always think that in case of an accident the impact would most likely snap the pen and leave a massive black or blue blotch across my heart. I can only imagine the puzzled looks if someone should find me like that. They'd probably for a second suspect having found an alien with black blood.

“One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.”

― Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums

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When I was a large format (inkjet) printer tech, I always used to wear black cotton drill trousers.

Now, these printers dump waste ink into a container which the clients never get emptied until they are full.

Because this waste ink is a blend of all the inks in the printer, it is a lovely deep, gooey black.

With one of these, I was less than careful, and some spilled onto my trousers without me noticing (black ink onto black trousers).

However when I got home and changed, I saw what I though was a lovely blue-black bruise on the inside of my thigh, about 6 inches in diameter. What I couldn't work out was how I got such a large and deep bruise without noticing it in the first place.

 

I'm really tempted to get a pouch of JustWrite's Toucan Magenta for work. After attaching a length of plastic tubing it should look quite interesting.

Perhaps, though, since I am (very) distantly related to royalty, perhaps the Royal Blue might be more appropriate...

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“Them as can do has to do for them as can’t.


And someone has to speak up for them as has no voices.”


Granny Aching

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