|
|
Monday, June 12, 2006A Sudden Crash, and the Tables Are TurnedWe all know I'm the world's biggest klutz. And we all know that Eric took wonderful care of me when my fractured ribs were healing. Big prize for Doting Husband and all that. Well, now it's my turn to play nursemaid. On Friday evening, Eric and I were hanging out at our favorite pub in downtown Franklin. The children were here and there, as they always are on our family "Franklin outings." A jaunt to the toy store, a few sips of ice water at the table, a mosy to the parking garage to take some pictures, and back again. It was a typical evening. Eric knew that the chair was wonky. It made tremendous creaking noises when he leaned back on it. They sounded like mechanical farts. In the world of boys and men, it was funny. Naturally, it doesn't take much for Eric to get wound up when there's a camera rolling. Jonathan's digital camera was just the impetus Eric needed to rev up the wonky, farting chair. The camera's got a video feature, you see. Eric has a sort of reputation around here for making weird family videos. Right. So the camera was rolling, Eric was tipping back, and the chair was farting. Even as I sat there watching, the chair kept going back, and suddenly Eric was on the floor. The creaking chair back had snapped, and Eric had landed on his back, right on top of it. I, of course, was laughing the whole time. I mean, come on -- it was funny. It was the stuff of America's Funniest Home Videos. In a heartbeat, the entire pub grew deathly quiet, and a beefy, Gothic waitress barked, "Sir! Are you all right?" Eric was not all right. He was able to get up from the floor, and I thought at first that he was just a little bumped up. Not so. He was in excruciating pain. And I felt absolutely, positively horrible for having laughed only moments before. Henry, our waiter and all-round good guy, didn't charge us for the food and drinks. I rounded everybody up, brought the van around to the pub entrance, and helped my hobbling husband into the passenger seat. We dropped off the chickens at home and headed to the ER. Lovely way to spend a Friday night, yes? On top of everything else, I've learned yet another interesting tidbit about myself. When I'm stressed, I can't remember numbers. I gave the lady at the registration window the wrong birth date for my husband. Yes, indeed -- married for almost eighteen years and I wrote the wrong year of his birth. Then she asked me for his cell phone number. I drew a complete, impervious blank. I had to pull out my own cell phone and find Eric's number. "I'm really not good with numbers at all!" I said -- as if she hadn't figured that out already. When she then asked for my cell phone number, I almost cried. I had to take a deep breath, close my eyes, and think very hard. And I got it right. Poor Eric. He's sitting on an examination table in serious pain, and his wife is out in the lobby screwing up all his vital information. An X-ray showed no fractures. Eric's got some sort of contusion around the hip area, just to the right of his spine. A kind of "nerve bruise," if you will. Remember a couple of weeks ago when I was complaining about the way Eric was milking a little back pain? Well, he has now officially learned the difference. This is real pain, folks. He has my complete empathy. We were finally released around a quarter past midnight, and had to drive through the Wal-Green's pharmacy to get Eric's medication. I was delighted, of course, when the pharmacist informed me that there would be a thirty minute wait. That's exactly what I wanted to hear at 12:15 in the morning with a bruised husband on my hands. And now we come to the best part of the entire evening -- our thirty minute wait in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I had passed "tired" and reached "punchy," and Eric was feeling all romantic because we were sitting in a parked car after midnight, alone. Mind you, he couldn't even move. Every breath he took hurt. But within five minutes, he had me belly laughing. "This is fun," he said, smiling through the pain. I smiled back. "And the reason is...?" "Because I'm out late at night with you." Does it get any better than this? Either I've got the most wonderful, sentimental, romantic husband on the planet -- or he's really desperate. It was a rough weekend. Eric's at home today, doing slightly better. I'm not allowed to tell you all the details of my...ur..."nurse duties," so I'll be a good girl and honor his request. Dang. Being a good girl isn't much fun. If you're so inclined, pop on over to his blog and let him know you're thinking about him. Or laughing at him. Or feeling sorry for him because he's been at my mercy for more than forty-eight hours already. Poor guy. It stinks when someone you love is hurting. |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
|
9of my readers are feeling chatty:
Awww!! Poor guy, and all for making a chair fart! I bet he'll do it again if the opportunity ever presents itself.
And that's part of what makes him so great, isn't it? ;-)
Hope you heal soon Eric!
He wins the patient of the year award...how many pain sufferers would be romantic at that point in the evening?
Be sure to give him the bell that you used while healing!
Dearest, I would have laughed harder if I could have. This captures the evening and my stupidity.
I am going to write down all of the numbers that have significance and you can put them in your purse. You don't even know your own cell phone number. ;)
So I have to land in the ER to officially qualify for empathy? I will remember that.
No Kerrie, I am sorry to say that this little incident with the chair will be the impetus for full chair inspections at every restaurant as well as regular inspections at home. :)
I love you darling, Eric
Poor guy! At least he didn't hit his head. I hope he feels better soon.
I don't know my cell number, either. Or my husband's. I can only remember two phone numbers. The first is my parent's. (What I will do if they ever move, I do not know.) The other one is my best friend's from oh, ten years ago or more. I guess that's when I stopped being able to process new numbers! :)
((Jill)) I've been praying for Eric since you emailed me. I hope that he heals quickly. I'm sure you are doing just fine with your Nursing duties...:)
Man-oh-man, the things we do for attention!
I wrenched my back in a major way yesterday morning and spent the rest of the day in bed wearing a back brace. DramaMama had to help me get to the bed because I was hurting so bad. Holy crap that hurt!
We're all pulling for a quick recovery from farting chair syndrome.
I forgot to mention that DramaMama is a fabulous nurse maid, but for some reason takes near demonic pleasure in tormenting me when I am sidelined as I was.
Wow. What is with you people?! Maybe you should change your name from Boehme to Klutz? At least the two of you couldn't find more wonderful, loving mates to have around when the other is ailing.
Just as long as you both don't get hurt at the same time... oops. Somebody knock on wood! :-)
Ken
Oh dear - I am so sorry that this happened on a Friday night...but hey - you had fun in the parking lot - that counts too :)...There is nothing better than spending un-interrupted time with your Sweetheart :)...I am sure Eric is doing much better already.
Post a Comment
<< Home