Day 3 in heaven was spent, in part at least, at the local hospital. E-man the adventurer, having cut his foot rather severely on a lake clam. I think Michael’s “ahh he’ll be fine” has worn off on me a little too effectively. When Lula pulled E out of the lake and the blood was flowing I directed her to plunk him in a lawnchair while I sauntered off for the Poly Sporin and a band-aid. When I arrived back on scene there were the men folk looking at me, looking at my proposed first-aid treatment and shaking their heads sorrowfully. “You’re going to need more than that.” They advised “yup, this one’s going to need a stitch (or three or four).” When a dad says stitches, a mom’s internal panic alarm goes off. Dads are usually the ones with the spit, shake-it off go again, medical sense.
When someone injures themselves in heaven there are unique logistical hurdles to jump. First there is the discussion about where medical treatment exists, then the discussion as to whether the facility is open or closed for business. When you concur where to go, you have to establish if you should go. Okay, we already decided we had to go but it’s 6 pm on the beach in heaven, nobody’s been thinking “what if?” Now a gaggle of ‘relaxed’ vacationers are looking at one another wondering “Now what?” Each one running a self-sobriety test. Fortunately E-man’s injury occurred just before I settled into my beach chair with a fresh beverage; this saved us appealing (like a 3 year old who just cut off the cat’s whiskers) to the camp abstainer for medical transportation.
I returned my untouched drink to the cottage fridge, threw on a cover-up, loaded my patient and his aid into the van and headed for stitches. In the city this adventure would span 7 hours and end with a band-aid. In heaven, we were back to the beach with 2 follow-up visits booked before the ice had melted in my drink... A blip on the vacation radar screen.
Much gratitude today for timing, theories on milkbag and duct-tape waterproofing of injuries, Doctors who like to fish and surgical tool medical waste that rounds out a kid's tackle box nicely.
Your turn….What’s your gratitude this Thursday?
