Monday, October 21, 2013

Have you ever been stabbed in the forearm?


Have you ever been stabbed in the forearm?

I have. I remember my first time like it was yesterday. It was actually Saturday.

In the storm of self-centered hubris during the past two + years, this is the last thing I thought I'd do that would hurt.

"Where was I during the stabbing?" In the back yard.

So, if you have seen the following criminal, please contact me as soon as possible.


'Pinky the Oleander'

This scum bucket ran into the back yard - grabbed the dog by the tail and said "Give me all your nutrients or the dog gets it!" I was still amazed that a talking oleander was in the back yard when I realized I should have been more impressed with the fact that he was running that fast with a bucket around his waist.



What really happened?


I was using a Milwaukee Box Blade knife to cut the plastic buckets off the oleanders. We'd already planted three of them but not without a discussion about the box blade deal was a bit spooky considering the thickness of the plastic on the buckets. Yes, I was trying to "cut away" from myself {thanks dad}. Yes, we had used the tin snips on the thicker rim-area plastic. I was cutting up the side of the fourth bucket. I think a root from the plant actually caught the blade, so I applied more pressure.

Then it felt like I had been struck by lightning. Not that I have been struck by lightning, but there was a white flash and then I felt like I was 1000 degrees. The box blade was buried in my arm. I pulled it out and my arm wrinkled up and bubbled prior to blood spurting just like it does in gory horror movies. I'm not one for panic - so I tried to stay as calm as I could. Carrie was yelling some things but I wasn't really paying attention. I rushed to the sink and started washing dirt out of the wound. So, it's about the size of a box blade only MUCH wider where the skin was opening. For some reason my first reaction was to flex my forearm. Good move chief!

After finding the roughest and most unsanitary towel in our collection and grabbing the insurance information we headed off to urgent care. It was bad enough that I knew instantly that it needed to be sewed up.

"Would have been cheaper to pay somebody to plant them now." Carrie joked.

"It's not funny." I said.

She was laughing.

The truck revs in the garage ... but we aren't moving. I tell her that I believe the truck is in drive rather than reverse. It was actually in neutral. Then I began telling her how to drive. She did not like that. Then I began to get hot and light-headed. I am famous for passing out at times that don't really call for it. Although, I had lost a fair amount of blood in a short time.

At the same exit on the freeway there is an Emergency Room and an Urgent Care. I opted for the Urgent Care. It turned out to be a good decision. Virlana Johnson-Silva was the PA-C that did my care. She was informative, professional and entertaining.

Within thirty minutes of the stabbing I was sewn up. One internal stitch and three of those fancy horizontal mattress stitches on the outside. I am on a course of antibiotics AND I can still do the rowing race on the 26th and the surprise Olympic triathlon I chose to make up for Bartlett being permanently cancelled.

Tune in later to find out how much the stabbing costs after the "insurance" pitches in ... sheesh. Yes, it could be MUCH worse. I am lucky. Another eighth of an inch and I would have sunk into the main artery in my arm. That would have been an entirely different and less entertaining story.














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