The stitched up couple

Last night didn’t go as planned. I knew this the moment I saw the blood. Let me back up. One week ago yesterday, my wife (Becky) had surgery on her foot—a bunionectomy. For the first three days after the surgery, she had to keep the “toes above the nose” position. So I did the good husband thing and kindly served my wife (Here’s the phone honey, if you need anything just call me J).

After her follow-up with the orthopedic on Tuesday, she began wearing her boot and hopping on her left heel. Yesterday she overdid it a little and paid for it with extra pain. So after dinner, we decided she would stay home and I would go to church and lead our parents of teen group. Group meeting went well as usual. We’re studying “Age of Opportunity” by Paul David Tripp. This is a great book on parenting teens! It is my second time through it and our new group of parents is excited about the study.

After our group study, I went home supplied with a meal graciously provided for us by a member of the group. I went up to our room to change and bent over to put my shorts on only to hit my head on a glass candle holder. (Yes. It was the candle holder in the bedroom but it wasn’t Colonel Mustard). I reached for my head and there was nothing but blood. I looked in the mirror and thought, “Great! This one is going to need stitches!” I went downstairs, showed it to my wife and she confirmed the stitches theory. Off we went to the emergency room! Before leaving, our fifteen year old son got a few jokes in about “Pops hitting his head”. I wasn’t really in the mood but I tried to laugh at my stupidity.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Becky and I walked to the emergency room—-well actually, she was hopping and I was walking holding a bounty quicker picker upper on my head. Half way to the door, I looked at her and said, “Aren’t we quite the couple!” “Hop along and her mate with the sliced head!”

Gratefully, the emergency room was empty (not that I really had a legitimate emergency anyway—frankly, I was a little embarrassed to be there). Upon walking in, the receptionist said, “Well, what did you do to yourself?” She used one of those naughty little children lecture tones which only added to my embarrassment. And it didn’t take long before all the other nurses ganged up on me to gain some late night humor. And, I even think my wife enjoyed it. I thought to myself, “I could really use a little male backup right now.” But all I got was a male nurse and he just chimed in with the ladies! Well, with my ego hurting more than my sliced head, I decided I had to try to be a good patient—after all, I am a pastor!

When the Doc got to me, she looked and looked at my wound with a “Hum, Hum,” then she gave me another one of those “What did you do?” questions (Did I have to answer that one again—this is embarrassing! J). “Good News.” The Doc said. “I think I can glue you back together!” “Great,” I thought, “I am a canidate for glue—it doesn’t even need stitches!”

But the Doc faced a bigger challenge with my head than she anticipated. Not only does the scalp tend to bleed profusely, I’ve taken a daily aspirin regiment for more than a decade, so my wound refused to clot. But this Doc was not to be daunted by my bleeding head! When she found out that my line of work was very public, she said, “We have to get this right!”

After prolonged pressure on my head from the male nurse (remember him?), they thought they stopped the flow and quickly got the glue on. After it dried, however, the Doc looked at it and looked at it, and finally said, “I can’t accept that!” “I am a bit of a perfectionist; I need to do this over.” So let the head scrubbing begin! That’s right; they had to scrub the glue off my head and out of my wound to reset things for a new round of glue! (Honestly, I thought, I just have a cut on my head— is all this really necessary? But I kept my mouth shut—still trying to be the good patient—remember?)

Round two:

If you’re eating something right now, stop reading this until later. If not, read on. When they took the “old” glue line off, the fountain erupted! Blood splatter all over. (So Much for the t-shirt) L. They sent out to the pharmacy to get something special to stop the bleeding. This meant more leaning on my head from the male nurse (remember him?) While waiting for the blood to stop, I looked over at my wife who had elevated her stitched up foot onto my hospital bed, and I said, “Wasn’t I sitting beside you one week ago while you were in a hospital bed?” What a life! And, what a couple!!! J.

They finally got the bleeding to stop and ran the second round of glue (which saved me at least fifteen stitches). The Doc looked at it and said, “Yes! That’s much better.” I looked at my wife for a nod of confirmation. All agreed that this was a great glue job on the pastor’s head. WOW!! Others came by to inspect it and they all gave the Doc the high fives! As for me, I wasn’t sure what to think. It was closer to midnight than I wanted it to be, and frankly, after a long day, I didn’t care what the glue looked like. I just wanted to go home.

We were discharged from the hospital and the stitched up couple walked (well, one of us hoppedJ) to the car for a late night ride home. This will be a memorable evening to laugh about for a few years. Hope you had a few laughs at the pastor’s expense.

Pastor Steve Cornell

About Wisdomforlife

Just another worker in God's field.
This entry was posted in Humor, Laughter, Parenting teens, Trials. Bookmark the permalink.

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