He called me into the kitchen where we wrapped his hand in clean towels, then I called him a cab, got him into his coat and then he had me call my Mom, who was still at work, to meet him at the ER.

As we waited for the cab, he gave me instructions on how to finish dinner. I was probably 11 or 12 at the time.

Fortunately, the knife went through without hitting anything major - which was seriously lucky - and all they did was give him some stitches.

The funniest part was when he pulled the knife out of his hand, he whipped it across the tiny kitchen and whatever it hit, it broke the tip of the blade off the knife. My folks still have the knife - missing about half a centimetre off the tip.