I suppose it depends on who you talk
to. After seeing the picture Chris took,
each of the male grandchildren had a different take on the situation, knowing
their DadDad as well as they do. Jachin
was sure that I had narrowly survived a vicious attack by at least five
assassin ninjas. Micah, however,
disputed that claim. In his highly
respected medical opinion, the evidence clearly showed that there had indeed
been an attack, but the culprits were most certainly two renegade badgers. Nay, nay, saith Josiah the Younger. His decided opinion was that he had been waylaid
by two … no make that six … Tuscan raiders.
Zak and Caleb simply indicated
that they would be sufficiently impressed if he came away with an
Anakin-quality scar.
Now I am definitely tempted to simply stop
there and let all my fans choose which story is their favorite. In fact, that would still be kind of
fun. Let me know which one you
choose. But I guess I should confess
that the actual injury was nothing nearly that exotic. Not that it wasn’t a pretty serious
injury. In fact, for the second time in
my life it is entirely possible that the fact that I was wearing glasses may
have saved my life. Or at least this
time, my eyesight. The first time was in
high school when I pulled a basketball backboard down on my head after a
particularly awesome dunk. The rim hit
my glasses and skimmed off instead of chopping my head in half. Again, that was much more exciting than this
one.
As it happened I was at the church retreat
center looking for a two inch notebook. As
I entered one of the rooms, it was particularly dark. The light switch was located on the other
side of the room, and there was a chair blocking the door from completely
opening. Little did I know at the time
that there was a reason for that chair’s location. I forced the door open wide enough for me to
squeeze through, and started out for the far-away light switch. Unbeknownst to me, however, one of our metal
cots had been relocated to this room to accommodate some of our previous week’s
guests. I managed maybe two steps before
my shins contacted the cot and I went down.
My hands were pinned under me by springs of the cot, so down I crashed,
head first into one of the posts that were used for turning the cot into a
bunkbed. And by head first, I mean eye
first. Literally. I hit the post right in the middle of the
left lens of my glasses. The metal
frames held strong, though, bending only slightly. And the unbreakable glass, though slightly scratched,
remained unbroken. Thanks to their
selfless deflection, the post didn’t make its way through my eye orbit and into
my skull. I didn’t see the proverbial
stars, but there was a definite flash of light.
It was accompanied by a stab of pain that radiated out from my eye to
the back of my head, down my neck and into my lower back. Whiplash.
I was worried that something bad might just be occurring here.
I was accompanied on my journey by one of
our church members who just happens to be a paramedic. He heard my cry and my accompanying
speculations: “I think I may be bleeding … oh yeah, I’m bleeding.” He immediately shifted into professional mode
and started issuing instructions. “Stay
right there. Keep pressure on it.” He raced for the first aid kit. Now by this time I was sweating as well as
bleeding, so the tape he tried to use wouldn’t stick. But hey, he is a paramedic, and quite
creative. He broke open a roll of gauze
and began wrapping it around and around my entire head. Once he got that taped down, he guided me out
the door. I had to send him back for my
glasses, but he made me promise not to attempt the stairs without him
present. This was beginning to sound a
bit more serious that I thought. Glasses
in hand, we made our way downstairs. He told
me to sit at the picnic table while he went inside the other building to get
Chris.
She told me later that he made eye contact
with her and wiggled his finger for her to come to him. He told her to get her purse and come with
him. I can imagine that she was a bit
perplexed, but she complied. And when
she saw me, her first thought was, “Wow, it looks like that bandage is holding
his nose on. What in the world happened? Did he fall down the stairs?” (See, she’s not nearly as creative as her
grandsons. Way too practical). She made her cursory examination, and since our
paramedic continued urging us to leave, we made our way to the car.
We made a quick stop by the house on the
way to the clinic. I had to go to the
bathroom, and Chris wanted to get some ice for my head. She did tell me not to wash the blood off my
hands, though. Little nurse trick to get
us seen quicker. By the time we arrived
at the minor emergency clinic I had quite a headache, and my neck and back were
starting to complain as well. The girl
at the front desk took one look at me and immediately called for a nurse. Guess the blood worked. Well, that and the mummy wrap around my
head. The nurse came out immediately,
and within seconds we were on our way to a room. Her only comment was that I looked like a revolutionary
war hero. I lamented that I had lost my
fife. Ah, it’s great to be surrounded by
so much creativity. The doctor came in
not long after, and seven stitches later we were released. There was a brief moment when I thought we
would be delayed for a while, though. My
blood pressure was 145 over 96. They didn’t
like that second number. It finally came
down into the 80’s, though, so we dodged that particular bullet. Chris had to promise to watch it for the next
several days.
Last night wasn’t a particularly fun
one. I did sleep some, but it was not
exactly a restful night. My blood
pressure this morning was 134 over 90.
Again, the second number is too high, so I’m still under careful
observation by the nurses in my life (that would be Chris and Cailyn). Not sure how much work I will get done
today. It’s taken me well over an hour
just to get this typed. I can see a nap
in my near future.
Meanwhile, this story has taken on a whole
new meaning for me: Matthew 7:3-5 says, “Why
do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention
to the plank in your own eye? How can
you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the
time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of
your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your
brother's eye.”
Father, thank you for keeping this
particular metal plank out of my eye. I
know that’s not what you were talking about here, but sometimes the literal
makes the symbolic really come to life.
Amen.
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