Thursday, October 04, 2012
Well last night was eventful! We had another late night because my husband may be slightly more clumsy than I am.
Over the weekend, deer season started, and Joe went-a-hunting. As I have said earlier - my adventures in hunting have not been much fun so I though I'd much rather be productive here. I stayed in bed and slept. So off he went at 5:15 am. At 7:15 am my phone rang. He got a buck and I needed to bring the cart to him.
Crap. I really wanted to sleep in but duty (or Joe) called. So I hauled myself out of bed, got dressed, and got the cart over to him. Dudley came along to keep me from getting lost.
Last night we were making steaks and all of a sudden I hear "ow", a knife drop on the table, and see some pretty big eyes looking at me.
"Uh - I stabbed myself" he said holding up his finger which is bleeding pretty badly.
I cleaned it up and wrapped it but it would not stop bleeding so I put a compression on it and made him hold his arm up while I put away everything.
Then off to the emergency room 13 miles away.
Only, my husband is a complete dork. We did not even make it out of the driveway when he spotted 2 bucks in front of us and so he made me stop so he could look at them with the flashlight.
"Could you see how many points he has?"
"Hold on - let me get out."
"Joe - I REALLY don't care how big it is."
"No - it will only take a minute....oh - sorry about the blood stains on the upholstery."
"No worries - there's about to be a whole lot more."
So he wisely got back in the car and we finally made it to the emergency room where he had the entire staff laughing. When asked what happened he said, "Apparently my left hand was acting up so I had to stab it with the right hand."
They took him into the room and that's where we got the weirdest nurse in history. She was having a bad day I guess. First she started complaining about her coworker. Then she started talking about ... pigs.
Just out of the blue. She told us about the story of the Oregon guy who got eaten by his hogs. How they had mean pigs when she was growing up. About a boar who would attack her father and he needed a pitchfork to fend it off. How nursing pigs fight. And all about slaughtering pigs that misbehaved.
I whispered to Joe to behave.
This went on for over 25 minutes while she soaked his hand and waited for the doctor.
I finally thought I could put an end to the pig talk by saying -"well we don't want any pigs on our farm" - but that only earned me a disapproving glare - like I was some kind anti-pig kook. She then went on to tell us how great pigs are. (Except when they eat their owners I guess.)
We finally got out of there around 10:30 slightly traumatized by sliced fingers and tales of man eating hogs.
But we did get ice cream!