The day was rushed. We are getting ready for my baby's graduation (and subsequent celebratory festival) and I am super busy making lists of lists of lists. There is the important stuff, the hot topics, the Uber important and then there's brushing the toilet, spraying Febreeze, hoping it lasts, and praying for sunshine.
The toddlers (my three fuzzikids) were giddy and bothersome doing what they do best; interpreting Mommy's mood and nibble at it. I needed to get chores done. I needed to make calls. I needed... needed... needed.
Now I know it sounds like I was panicking but I was not. I was simply suiting up for the American Ninja Warrior- Mom edition. I had to dodge the growing laundry pile, try to make it down the deadly dog steps (this is an obstacle where my guffaw of a dog, Mulligan, shoves his nose into my back or up my butt and encourages me to trip, stumble or fall down the stairs while bubbling out dirty words ~ it's his favorite game. I am not a fan and not just because I suck at it. THAT would make me a bitter loser) and conquer the dishwasher drop (THIS obstacle is where the dishwasher lid comes open and all fuzzikids feel compelled to attempt to get inside and feast like it's Golden Corral on Surf n Turf night~ again, not a fan but I am a WARRIOR dammit) and the coup de gras, the trash bag toss. Oh I was in rare form and was feeling the burn of determination and success. I was gonna hit that button (the garage door button) get outside and GO OUT ~
What's that saying about best laid plans?
Well, I had it until the trash bag hit the can in the garage. It cracked the side and popped open, dumping papers and coffee filters and yucky, dirty trash at my feet. (insert dramatic sigh and eye roll if you feel so inclined. I did.) But I stepped down and angrily plucked the now empty bag and hit my knees. Oh I was gonna pray alright. Pray I could get this junk done and just move on. I wanted to GO OUT.
I don't know where it came from, the bent dog food lid, or should I call it the evil shiv of pain and slicing? Because that is what it did. It sliced me. Deep. It bit me so fast that all I could do was hiss and then hold my breath while my brain tried to catch up screaming in my ears "WHAT HAPPENED? I FELT SOMETHING ~ CUT! ARE WE CUT?" but my body was in warrior mode so it kept picking up trash and papers. It ignored the growing change in color of those papers from white to red. In fact, it shouted at my brain to move faster! So I did. Ignoring now that it looked like I was trying to pick up liquid with my hands and put it in the bag. Then the smell hit me, copper. I began to see speckles dancing around laughing at me. I felt a little ... confused.
"Get inside Stupid YOU'RE BLEEDING!" I got up (the trash was picked up so my body allowed it.) and stepped inside. How do I stop the bleeding? Paper towels of course but not just ANY ... no... Viva. I grabbed a little sheet and wrapped my finger. It instantly turned red. Ooops better get another... and another... and another.. huh... a little worse than I thought. I applied pressure. Then a little more and some more until my pulse could be felt in my teeth and heard next door. I put my hand on top of my head. Raise it right? You betcha. I walked around and wiggled my fingers so it looked like a deranged Halloween party hat. More towels please. Yes, just give me the roll.
I made my way upstairs to where the band aids are. No issue there. (another towel or four please ~ hand on head- wiggle fingers.) I think it might be a good idea to rinse off. This is untrue. The minute water hits my finger, a flap of skin swishes to the side. I see a flash of white. Bone? oops. More towels please. Direct pressure. Hand on head. I pace around my bathroom and wonder if I will get in trouble if Cheech...
"What are you doing?"
(insert that "uh-oh" theme song. It's appropriate)
"Nothing"
"Yeah?"
The phrase in our house: If I'm asking, I already know. For a brief moment I wonder how but considering the fact that I have two rolls of Viva around my finger that are as red as bricks...
"I... think I cut myself."
"I think so too. Let me see"
"NO!" I pinch harder, put it on my head and close my eyes. If I can't see him... he can't see me... right? Didn't we all try that when we were uhhhh FOUR???? (sigh ~ go ahead. I'm a wussy)
"Let's go get stitches."
"NOOOOOO. No No No... Uh-uh. Nope."
"Why are you being like this?"
"They won't numb me. Just sew it like it was a sweater!" I hiss tears welling up.
"Honey, I bet they will. They'll use..."
"A NEEDLE! DOUBLE NO. I'D RATHER EAT HOT GLASS!" (for those of you who don't know already, I have a phobia of needles, bees... sharp pointy things.... and being chased but we can revisit that)
"You're being silly. Give it. Now let me see...."
And childishly I do. My own loving warrior, bandages me. He never asks again and helps me. My finger is throbbing and I am in so much pain I want to cry but I don't because I don't want to go get stitches. He never questions or scolds me. He goes downstairs and we make dinner. I really just watch as this hero of heroes makes a king's feast for a cowardly jester.
He gives me Tylenol and kisses my head. He smiles softly and tells me the house looks great... aside from some stray blood splatter. I warn him that the police will question him if I disappear. Luminal will not be his friend. He makes me dessert. I ask him why it tastes like bitter almonds and he takes a bite of mine and says ~ always together.
He gets ready for work and I am sad because I want to simply sit and worship my hero. I want to fall asleep in his safe, first-aid ready arms.
"Have a good day Hon." I say as he heads out the door.
"Will do. Could you put paper towels on the grocery list? We're very low on Viva."
Warriors til the end.
Hello there. It seems weird that we are here together again. I said I would try and I will... again and again missing my friend and mentor all the while. I can't tell you the number of times I started and threw out my work. I am still a little shaky but I always feel better sharing family stories; good and bad. Thanks for visiting. I have another on the way in a week or so (gotta get through graduation first) but it will be a fiction piece. It's been too long since I've done what I love, write.
Thank you for visiting. You're good company.
See you soon.
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