Yesterday I was standing in the kitchen making my homemade spaghetti and meatballs. Tamanda and their son, and our friend Brown were coming over for dinner.
So I'm standing there at about 12 PM getting my sauce to its simmering point and hubby is in the garage drywalling a small part of the wall up so that we can move shelves and organize. I hear him scream bloody murder and go running. I threw the door open and he screams that he needs running water. I throw my spaghetti spoon down and run and turn the water on as he comes running in the house.
He tells me he's cut himself, badly, and he will need to go to the hospital. I say, "are you sure?" and look down. Bad mistake. He then tells me he needs a towel. I go running as the neighbor comes running up our driveway because he heard hubby scream. I come running back with a HUGE towel for his left pointer finger. He looks at me and says, "Do we have something smaller than that?" I'm so retarded.
So I get a small wash cloth and wrap it up. I then proceed to run around turning everything off, grabbing my purse, and grabbing his wallet. While I've been doing this, our wonderful neighbors have been trucking everything from the driveway into the garage so it won't get left outside. They are calming hubby down, telling him not to look at it. They confirm I know where the nearest emergency room is, which was awesome because I wasn't even really thinking, I was just going to drive, and off we go.
We get there and 4.5 hours later, and 8 stitches later, hubby's finger points straight out like he's screaming, "I'm # 1!"
I watched the MD sew him up. Hubby cut himself well, he didn't do a half-assed job! After the reassembly, the MD points to hubby's tip (hubby isn't watching, of course) and tells me if the circulation doesn't return, hubby will most likely need a skin graft. I hope that doesn't happen. It will be such a pain the ass for hubby!!!
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