The best laid plans....

Schedule for Monday:

1. Feed and walk the dogs.

2. Clean out the refrigerator.

3. Visit Mom

4. Buy milk and dry skin lotion.

5. Clean up after the dogs in the yard.

6. Drive to the Emergency Room.

7. Have dinner with the family.

Wait, what was number 6?  I don't remember writing that on the list!  Yes, as they say, even the best laid plans can often go awry and one finds oneself sitting in the waiting room marked "minor wound care"in the Emergency Room of the hospital.

The day was going along so nicely.  Sun shinning, tasks 1 - 5 crossed off the list.  I was just informing the four basset hounds that I only needed to put out the trash and it would be time for a nice cup of tea.  I was on the other side of our fence, bending down to gather up the last of the bags.  And as I stood up to finish, I had a slight, let us say "run-in" with the latch on our garden gate.  As soon as I connected with it, I said out loud, "Oh this isn't good.  This is gonna be a problem."  That was confirmed when after touching the now pulsating spot on my head, I looked down to see blood on my hands.

I immediately sprang into "Teacher Action" - where I act very efficient and on a sort of automatic pilot for emergencies.  Brought the now startled and quiet dogs back into the house and called daughter #2 to say there might be a slight delay in my arrival for dinner at five. I then laid out the four dog bowls with food and placed them in the pantry, a note in each bowl as to where said dog should be placed to eat so as to avoid any more bloodshed. I then made sure I had my medical info and a book to read, turned on some lights in the house, brushed my teeth so as not to offend anyone, and headed out the door.  It was about 3:20.

The experience in the ER wasn't a total disaster.  The long wait did get frustrating, especially since I couldn't get service on my cell phone and I was worried the family was trying to hold dinner (and might be a wee bit worried about crazy Mom).  I finally told a staff member I needed to call and let them know how I was.  I was allowed to use the phone in the room, then having done that I surrendered to my circumstances.  I made a few "friends" as one does in these situations, comparing wounds and family medical stories.  Five stitches later and I was out the door.  Wow, and it's now only 6pm!

I finally arrived at my daughter's house and had a wonderful, albeit brief, visit with the family.  The Englishman, who is currently traveling, chose that moment to "video chat" with me on my phone.  I quickly asked my daughter to grab me a hat, to try and hide my Bride of Frankenstein look, but she declined and I told him what had happened.  He felt so bad for me, but I felt equally bad for him.  Don't things always seem so much worse when you are far away from the situation?  Daughter #1, who is traveling with him, also called to check on me.  

In the scheme of things, it really wasn't a big deal.  I always try to put life events in proportion and this really could have been a lot worse.  Several people at the hospital asked if I was concerned they might have to cut away some of my hair.  At my age?  Not a problem, I said.  Besides, it would only be for a cut.  I am not battling cancer.  Now that, would be a problem.

Memorable way to spend my birthday, huh?