While I met my daily word quotas during NaNoWriMo Weeks 3 and 4, some homemade gore stole me away from blogging about scenes from my First 50k. I'm not talking about turkey fryer disasters, the carnage at Ford Field on Thanksgiving Day, or Black Eye Friday, either.
The gory scene-stealer resembled something from The Thing and took place on the Saturday prior to Thanksgiving. My daughter Issa had just finished up a stellar 60 minutes of play at our local gymnastics center. We were looking forward to lunch with my mom and Riff at a family friend's home nearby. Upon pulling into the friend's driveway, I knew something was amiss.
Clue #1: No cars in the driveway or garage. Where is everyone? I'm guessing Riff misbehaved and grandma has him in lock down mode somewhere. Issa senses we're not eating lunch anytime soon and begins eyeballing the Nutella cookies I made for dessert.
Clue #2: All those unanswered calls on my cell. In my defense, I rarely answer my phone while watching my children dance, play sports, sing, etc. They're just too cute and I don't want to miss a beat.
Clue #3: My husband, Tracy, finally gets me on the cell and says he's at the ER because he hacked up his right hand with an electric table saw. He was just a few planks shy of finishing a home flooring project. Since I can be a bit of a drama queen, I now have visions of his shredded hand dangling by a tendon. Hamburger anyone?
As I'm driving to the ER, Issa is bombarding me with questions. Understandably, she's worried about her dad and I have limited answers. Here's the question I could answer without hesitation.
Q: Will this be on the news?
A: No; not unless a neighbor calls them and we have good neighbors.
Upon seeing my husband's hand at the ER, the laceration was serious, but could have been so much worse. He just had outpatient surgery Monday to repair nerve damage. The biggest challenge going forward is limited use of his hand for the next four weeks.
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