Or in our case, the hand.
Yesterday, my mom called me from a Door County area hospital. She and Gary are vacationing there and staying with a dear Christian woman. In exchange for the generous free lodgings, Mom and Gary wanted to do some chores around the woman’s house.
One such chore involved Gary standing on a ladder and sawing away at errant tree limbs. Mom stood beneath the ladder, holding on to steady it. As the saw chewed through one branch, it fell to the ground and bounced back up to where Mom was standing. It slashed through the skin and tore through the tender skin between Mom’s thumb and forefinger.
At first, Mom didn’t know anything was wrong. Then Gary and their host began to stare at Mom, as her hand bled “like a war wound.” Mom has the pain threshold of a stoic Stoic. Still, her hand wouldn’t stop bleeding.
So, they ended up in the emergency room where Mom received 5 dissolvable stitches and twelve ugly above-the-hand stitches. The doctor told her it was amazing she hadn’t severed any tendons.
Mom and Gary were also disappointed to learn Mom would have to wear a sling. Mom was also given strict orders to do “nothing,” which under normal circumstance might be nice, but not when you’re up in Door County to go bike riding and cherry picking.
So, Mom called me again this afternoon, from a clinic, where her dressing was changed. The good news is there is no sign of infection (with the wound coming from a tree branch there was some concern). The bad news is that, besides the huge slash on Mom’s hands, two of her fingers are grossly swollen. The clinic tech told her that the fingers are “traumatized.”
“Me, too,” Mom joked.
The doctor told Mom she can have the stitches taken out the Monday after next. She’s also still in the sling and drugged up on pain meds, as some of the pain finally seeped through her armor.
“Mom, I’m SO sorry,” I told her over the phone. “I know you guys were looking forward to this trip.”
Then she proved she is the woman I have always loved and admired.
“It’s okay,” she assured me. “At least they have the Hallmark channel.”
Atta girl, Mom! Nothing’s quite as bad if you can watch Christy to dull the pain.