Wounded

Apparently it took something as exciting as last night to get me to write a blog post. Last night, around 11 p.m., while Charles and Bobby were still lingering after Bible study, I started playing with the pocket knife Andy gave me for Christmas. Mind you, this isn't the typical knife. It is large enough to fit comfortably in my large hands, and spring loaded. If you open it it ten percent, it take care of the rest. Therein lies the reason I was playing with it. Although I hardly ever carry a knife, and am far from violent, it is fun to look at people and say things like "You want to say that again?" while simultaneously flipping the knife open effortlessly and flashing it before them. The sound of it opening is the perfect conclusion to any threatening rhetorical question. It really is fun, and most audiences find it amusing too.

So there I was last night opening and closing my knife. Somehow, while locked open, it slipped from my hands and began to fall. Instinctively, I went to grab it... Somehow, in this split second, rather than gracefully catch the knife by the handle, I somehow shoved it into my pelvis. It instantly hurt, but not much beyond the typical puncture wound. I set the knife down, told everyone in the room that I had stabbed myself and waddled into the bathroom to survey the damages.

About this time, and before I was aware of what had happened, Stephanie looked at the knife and this is what she saw.

There is no dollar bill in this picture to give you a sense of scale, but from the tip of the knife to where the blood stops is two inches. I used a tape measure. Suddenly, Stephanie was quite concerned. She quickly came to examine me. I must say, as a medical professional, I was not too impressed. I was as calm as a cucumber, but she could hardly looking at the wound. It was two inches deep, and only about an inch long. I have concluded that the only reason it did not go further is that it dead-ended into my pelvic bone. After consulting everyone, we figured I best go to the emergency room. Stephanie and I took off while Bobby and Charles stayed back for Thor.

It was while driving that I realized how lucky I am. If it had been two inches lower, we would be stopping at two children, and if it was 2 inches higher, I would have been urinating in a bag for the rest of my life (apparently they can't fix ruptured bladders). Praise the Lord for letting me get away with only a minor flesh wound!

We went to Mount Carmel East and had a great experience. The wait was short, and I enjoyed trying to eavesdrop on the Spanish speakers behind me. The doctor was quick, reassuring, and pleasant. He used a whopping 3 stitches, and I am glad that was it. They hurt. We were remarkably home by 1:40 and I was on time for school today!

So, there it is--my adventure for the week. Thanks for reading and pray that I blog about all the other beautiful things in my life soon.