Yesterday as I was leaving school, my husband calls me and tells me to meet him at the emergency room. Yikes!
Then he says, "I just shot myself."
I shriek, "What?"
Well I guess he still had his sick sense of humor during the pain, because then he explains that it was with a nail gun while on top of a roof!! Luckily he did not fall off the roof, his brother helped him step down one ladder rung at a time.
We waited in the emergency room for four hours before the er doc tells us he can't remove it because it is a roofing nail which has prongs coming out of the side. They call a surgeon in. He shows up an hour later. He was one of the running club guys that I ran with on New YEar's Day, we did not recognize each other at first due to not wearing lots of hats and tight clothing, I guess.
Two hours later, I was brought to my recovering husband in the maternity ward, the hospital was PACKED! They only had room in the maternity ward for him. We left at 11pm hobbling home in pain and embarrassed.
Today was filled with lots of persaset and ginger ale. Oh wait, don't let me forget the best part of today, we had to "pack" the wound since it is a "dirty" wound and can not be stitched. Let me tell you folks, it is disgusting. It is an open wound the size of a quarter that we can't allow to get infected. Oh great.
I am going running tomorrow am, I don't care, I need to run off the stress or else I might do something really stupid like take up smoking!