A trip to emergency



Just a typical Monday until Terry stumbled past my office saying “Call an ambulance, I’ve got a puncture in my thigh.”  I called 911; all the while hearing commotion down the hall, no clue what is happening.  I’m in hyperdrive and everyone else is in slo-mo but eventually the ambulance has dispatched and I can hang up the phone.  I follow voices down the hall to the lunchroom and there Terry lies on the floor, head resting on a roll of paper towels; Rance has cut his left pant leg off at the thigh to check the damage, dark blood soaked into the remnant.  I think I might faint.

He’s not bleeding out.  He looks a little panicked (or probably that’s me) so I stroke his forehead.  Which calms me – a bit.  I hear the ambulance crew at the front door and get them directed.  Whew.  He’s gonna be okay.   

It’s off to the emergency room for us.  The wickedly sharp 30 inch wood splinter spit from a saw missed the femoral artery by a few critical centimeters. Same with the man parts. 

Cottage Grove has a welcoming emergency room.  I was allowed to hang with Terry during his various procedures.  The Doc asked for introductions and I am “my best friend.”  Funny, we’d had a conversation just this morning about “Eddie’s Father,” the theme song “He’s my best friend, don’t you know that I love him so well.”  Yes. Says it all.  

Sister Anne came to the E.R. She shot a photo of the offending splinter (Terry kept the splinter as a souvenir.)   Those Whipple’s are a little macabre.  I’ve got a souvenir as well, a photo of Terry wearing blue paper pants in public! 


     

We're at the walk-up pharmacy - he had to go the window wearing those paper pants!

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