No, it does not involve me and a oversized John Deere pocket knife. Different story.
My husband was out working on a long (3 day) job. While he was fixing an auger, the strap that was holding it together snapped, and the huge metal bar fell right on top of him, crushing his 6'3" frame into a 12" space.
Twelve inches.
Thank God, he had a man working with him that day who proceeded to pry it off of him saying, "Man, I didn't realize this thing was so heavy!"
My phone rang:
My husband said, "You need to call my dad, and come to the hospital right away. I try to stand up, and I can't, and then I get a little lightheaded."
That was it!
The hospital he was at was 40 minutes from our house, and it was a looooong ride, not knowing anything about what had really happened to my husband or how he was doing.
What I did know is that my husband never goes to the hospital for anything. The last time he went was six years ago.
I'm serious. Six years.
Six years ago, his mom forced him to after he sliced his Achilles tendon right open. Looking back, he still wishes he'd have just learned to sew it up himself to save the money - even though his mom paid so that he would go. He also still remembers the hypocritical doctor smoking a cigarette while condemning my husband for trying to walk on his foot. "He had no business giving me health care advice"...
O brother.
I digress.
So for 25 terrible minutes we sit in a hospital room: his mom, dad, aunt and me, waiting for him to get out of X-Ray.
Calm down, please.
The doctor shows us the X-Ray and tells us that he has cracked his pelvis bone. A very awkward and uncomfortable injury, but also despite a few bumps and bruises, his only injury. Then the doc cracks some jokes about how if my husband plays his cards right, might be able to end up walking like John Wayne.
Hilarious.
But seriously, husband later told us that there had to have been angels, because for what had happened, he had been relatively unharmed. The auger had merely "grazed" his head and back. After moving us into an upstairs room (husband didn't take the stairs), the rest of the family left to go home and we were left alone in a hospital room for the night.
Romantic!
Just me, my husband and various nurses and doctors who would check on him every 2-3 hours for the entire night.
The hospital in this town is newly renovated. In fact, we came to find out the town is very proud of it - and with good reason. It is beautifully and artfully designed and decorated. The rooms are large and modern with a flat screen TV, walk-in shower, and even a sleek leather bench that pulls out into a bed - which would serve as my accommodations for the night.
Not to shabby.
The next day, my husband woke up "a little sore." He had refused any painkillers, and continued to, deciding that he didn't want to risk hurting himself more by moving too much in a reduced-pain state. So, he continued on, being "a little sore."
Much to my chagrin, only my husband got his meals catered, so I'd run down to the cafeteria to get my breakfast. On the way, I spotted a bright little gift shop. A fancy glass cake platter filled with doughnuts caught my eye. If you know my husband, you understand that only one of these balls of sugar/dough/sugar would complete his so-called complete breakfast. So I snatched one up,
This day, we lounged in the posh room. We watched some great TV - something about Hollywood's most tragic transitions - who knows? We enjoyed visits from some friends and family, and of course all our new friends on the medical staff who came to hang out at least each hour. No, really. I think they thought his room was the fun room, so they'd bide time in there to avoid cranky Lewis down the hall.
In fact, that evening, the doctor came to check in. We told him to pull up a chair, and he ended up chatting with us for a few hours. He was an interesting guy, with a very, very dry sense of humor. We learned all about his family and what brought him to this part of the
Not really. But, sort of.
We ended up staying another night in the hospital. The comedian doctor had told my husband he'd recommend he could leave when, if there was a fire, he was able to get up and run out. My husband assured the doctor that if there was a fire, he and his broken pelvis would indeed find a way to escape. But my husband got the point - he couldn't move his legs at all because of the "soreness" in his abdomen, and so he couldn't get in and out of bed without help.
I ventured out a little bit the second day we were there, and found some gems in this small town. I had been to this city's indoor swimming pool before but I hadn't known that it was about 2 blocks from the hospital, so I walked there, bought a new suit - it was the local town's swim team suit, "designed and special ordered from Spain." That didn't impress me so much as the fact that it was only $20 for a great racing suit because it was leftover from the team's order. I bought the leopard print reversible suit and went for a little swim.
Hey, what's a girl gonna do when her hubby's chillin' in the hospital room?
Don't feel bad.
He had cable TV and on-call nurses bring him milk and cookies whenever he wanted!
On the way back, I found a little house that had been converted into a shop. They sold all sorts of cute and artsy home items, bakeware, coffees, teas, jellies, snacks, journals, cookbooks, and jewelry. So, naturally, I took a 15 minute retreat here, sampled the free chili-roasted almonds and chatted with the girl at the cash register. She was filling in for her sister for an hour. This girl actually worked for the local physical therapist who had come to hook my husband up to the electronic-stimulator machine the night before. Small
"Warning: What Happens Today is on Facebook Tomorrow."
Wisdom.
Next I headed to Alco. By the way, I need to mention that before I moved to this part of the
Genius.
And high class at only $1.
I was on my way back to the hospital when I spotted a lovely looking little art gallery. I pulled over and headed in. The gallery featured around 15 local artists ranging from painting and drawing to mixed media and ceramics. One of my favorites were some beautiful wooded bowls. The man working told me that the owner was the ceramicist, and pointed out her work. I told him about my husband, who had gotten a degree in sculpture and also enjoyed ceramics. I explained that he was in the hospital right now.
"Oh! The boy who had the auger fall on him! I heard about that!"
??? (I'm sorry. I have to have a flashback to my freshman year of college when I attended a "small school" for one semester. It was only slightly bigger than my high school, and I started meeting people who'd say, "Oh! I've heard about you!" And, I promise I hadn't done anything worth hearing about. The school was just that small, that people "heard about" other people. I freaked out and started making plans to transfer to state-school.)
I'm grown up now. I don't freak out when people have "heard about" things. Really. I don't. Have you heard otherwise?
Ok, well apparently, one of the attending nurses was boarding with the man and his wife. Wait, let me guess - small town. I was surprised anyway. I know. But maybe I'll catch on soon. This town has three times as many people as the town we live in, but still, is only marginally bigger than my high school was.
Back at the hospital, we enjoyed a quick lunch, which sadly, did not include orange jello that day. He decided he felt well enough to leaving and the doctor approved. We bid farewell to the helpful staff after they helped us down to the door. Husband scooted along with help of his grandfather's walker. Meanwhile, between giggles (sorry!) I had to reassure myself that, no, we have not been married for 60 years, and this is only temporary.
As we drove out of town, husband asked me to turn right on the main street, and head back to the work site where his dad and another worker were finishing up the job.
OK, Honey. But, please don't get out of the car when we get there! You can do nothing (physical)!
It might have been more painful than his injury, but he sat in the car and did nothing (physical) as he asked questions, gave information and a few directions as per finishing the job. As we drove away from the site, back past the town where we'd just spend two nights, and on towards home, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I turned to my husband and gave him a pitiful smile.
"I'm sorry you can't work for a while," I said.
"Me too," he replied. But then his countenance raised as he said, "I'd better call my cousin and let him know we have lots of video games to play."
I rolled my eyes. "OK, Ornery. I can see you're feeling better."
He grinned that familiar grin. "You ain't seen nothin' yet!"
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