I have always been proud that I've never had stitches.
I didn't have stitches when I fell backwards on my bike into a concrete drain. sure, my butt was pitifully scratched and I had to complete my piano exam sitting on a cushion but the point was that I didn't get stitches.
Or when I sliced the top of my left index finger whilst doing a project. Blood squirted everywhere and my dad was worrid that I'd faint from loss of blood but I was adamant that I didn't want stitches so I taped the bit which I had nearly sliced off to the rest of my finger with lots of gauze and surgical tape til it stuck back together thanks to hemoglobin and other wonderful stuff my body provides.
Then a year later I fell into another drain because I'd forgotten how to apply the brakes on my bicycle! I was nearly put into a neck brace but because I had a youth camp to go that week, I begged the doctor to let me heal on my own so I did.
Then several years later I sliced my right index finger to the bone; I could actually lift the skin and see inside my finger! Cool... I was bleeding and panicking all over the kitchen and then shock set in (that was when I found my almost severed finger fascinating). My housemates wondered if I should go to the doctor to get it stitched but again I didn't want stitches. And I have never been stitched... until today.
I had to get my wisdom tooth extracted and unfortunately, the end result is that I now have stitches in my mouth. I don't know how many stitches the dentist put in. My mouth is still too sore to open and the little I can see is all bloody. Gone are the days of stitchlessness. From here on, I will be a patchwork quilt of art.