Punctured Day

This ring was round until yesterday.
Round until yesterday.

Yesterday was beautiful until about 5 p.m. My Reiki volunteer service was especially fulfilling and ended with a meditation with Hospice volunteers, the nonpareil group at the hospital.

I was gathering thoughts and figuring out what to write here when   Larry arrived home. He had gauze, tape,  bandages, and I don’t know what all else plastered all over his hands and arms. He said a dog had bitten him but that he was OK. He went upstairs. I went up a bit later and found him in the bathroom, sink filled with huge splotches of blood, tape and gauze and bandages everywhere.

I mentioned the doctor. He said no. I helped him retape some of the gauze and bandages and cleaned the sink. A bit later, I found more tape and bandages and blood. Following the second cleanup I said, “We need to go to the doctor.” It was after six, so most places closed. I don’t get the concept that illnesses keep a workday schedule. Much searching for a nearby urgent care clinic, nothing appeared within a twenty-mile radius. He still didn’t want to go to the hospital, but I threatened. I won’t say exactly what, but it involved family. We made our way to the E.D.

We agreed that the three-hour experience was surprisingly pleasant. The doctor said that “we” made absolutely the right decision to come in. They checked the vitals. Then began the rather long process of patching the wounds with small pieces of adhesive that the Patient Care Technician  said would dissolve on their own. No stitches because they want to leave spaces so air can help with the healing and minimize the chances of infection.

The tech was a veteran, so he and Larry bonded over military experiences – trying to dis women the process. I won. Best line of the evening from the RN, also a woman, came after the PCT called her “Ma’am”: “Don’t call me Ma’am. I work for a living.”

One of Larry’s veteran buddies showed up and sat with us. We still don’t know how he found us but he was a fabulous support.

Now we wait for the healing and for the swelling in his fingers to go down so we can get the rings fixed. I can’t get a really good shot of his wedding ring, which has teeth marks in it.

Best reaction to his ailments came from his sister who said, “Oh, the poor dog.”

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