In my last post, I said I would say how karma came around and bit me. I actually said "tomorrow." Well, it's the day after the day after the day after the day after tomorrow (or so), so I guess I'm technially still posting "tomorrow."
The hubby is healing quite nicely. I actually went in to Walmart with him the other day, as we had the need for more Bandaids. He was out of his camo Bandaids, so I went hunting and bought what I thought were camo. Turned out there were some kind of shark instead -- I know it's a military symbol, but he thinks they are too kiddie and won't use them. Maybe if I'd gotten Transformers ones.........oh well, good thing I bought some plain ones for me because yeah. Retribution.
A perfect storm of bad decisions turned into a Med Check visit for me, the day after Jim's mandolin accident. Thomas had been giving me some guff because "geez Mom, DAD has seen my new house, and YOU haven't." Doesn't matter how old they are, they still can play the guilt card. Well, I've been dealinig with a bum knee, and have been laying low (actuallly had surgery on it today, but that's a different story -- I'm fine), so yes, It took me two weeks to get to his new house. I told him that I'd be over on Tuesday, but he was tired, so I suggested Wednesday instead.
I got up and went to PT (pinched nerve in my neck. Geez, I'm falling apart.) and decided to head over to SoBro to his house. I realized that Thomas' roommate had some mail back at my house, so I turned back and went and got it. Mickey let it be known that his Mama was not being nice in leaving him behind. I mean, who can resist this face?
I caved, and he rode along with me. I mean, he goes everywhere with me, but given Thomas' dog Penny's feelings about Mickey, which are reciprocated in triplicate, I figured I would let him ride along, but he'd have to stay in the car while I visited. Mickey, not knowing whose house we were at, bailed out of the car when we arrived, so I just let him come. I knocked on the door. It wasn't latched, so it opened a little bit, and suddenly Mickey was nose to nose with Penny. She was not amused, and not only blocked the door, but growled. A lot. Thomas grabbed her, and Mickey and I went in. Mickey jumped on the couch, and Penny came over to see what was what.
They got nose to nose. Penny growled. Mickey growled. Suddenly, it was on like Donkey Kong. I'm not sure if I grabbed him to get him on my lap, or if Mickey was trying to get onto my lap, but I ended up with my arms wrapped around him, trying to push Penny away, because they were both going nuts. Remember all those times you told your kids not to try to break up a dog fight? Well, I remember, and despite my warnings to the kids since they were born, I did it anyway, and Penny sunk her teeth into my forearm. As in, DEEPLY sunk her teeth into my forearm.
Thomas finally was able to wrestle Penny away and was able to hear me say "she bit me. I need a paper towel." I'd actually said it several times, but no one had understood that it wasn't a small bite -- it was a deep, ugly one. Thomas threw Penny into the scary basement and grabbed some paper towels. It didn't hurt, so I got the grand tour of the house whilst holding pressure. Yeah, it was gaping enough that I knew it would need stitches. Thomas would alternately open the basement door and tell Penny how bad she was, then ask me if he needed to drive me to get it looked at. Heck no. I drove myself to the hospital when I was in labor -- twice. I drove myself to the ER with a broken arm, in the midst of an asthma attack. A little blood isn't that big of a deal. I told him the real bummer was that I had planned to take him to lunch, but that now he probably didn't want to go, what with my bloody arm and all.
Say free food to Thomas, and everything changes. He's not particularly worried about wounds, though he was pretty unhappy about Penny, as he told her multiple times "you bit my Mama. NO ONE hurts my mama." He's had stitches himself, so he knew it's not that big of a deal. He said if I was truly ok to wait, he'd go to lunch with me. I wanted to go with him, because he felt so bad that I needed to make sure he understood that it wasn't the dogs' fault before I left. It was 100% my fault. He dug out his first aid kit, we covered it up, and had a really nice lunch at O'Charleys before I headed off to Medcheck, where I found out that they preferred to leave it open instead of stitching, to help prevent infection. They couldn't even give me a tetanus shot because I'm immunosuppressed, so they gave me a script for antibiotics and had me go home after filling out an Animal Bite form for the health department. I made sure that it said on that form that I was DUMB and that it was all MY fault. Can't blame dogs for being dogs, ya know. It was just bad decisions from me from beginning to end.
So here we are, Jim missing a chunka thumb, and me with a mooshy, gushy wound on my arm ,and now ice packs on the incision on my knee. In short, we are a hot mess here. Moral to the story: before one gives one's spouse a hard time about not following safety procedures, make sure that you follow the safety rules too.