I do not know what to make of this

A glass door crashes down to the floor and shatters into countless pieces.
I fall with the glass door and land, somehow, on top of it. My whole body is pierced by glass bits.
There is a sharp pain on my right elbow and there, a sizeable, triangular shard of glass is lodged.
I cry.

I find myself in the hospital, seated on a white couch. Someone, a man garbed in green, plucks out, unceremoniously, the chunk of glass from my elbow.
Incredulous, I look at the man, then at my elbow. I can see the bloody flesh inside. There is a hollow, a gap between my arm and forearm.
There is a piece of string sticking out.