Friday was an eventful day for the Powell family. John woke up and immediately sat down at the computer to finish his summertime project in time for his training day at work tomorrow. I (Katherine) have watched him work on this project sporadically all summer long, and it’s good to see him finish it. After he finished with it (around lunch time) he decided to reward himself by going to the garage and working on a bullet proof vest he’s been designing while I prepared lunch.
Very soon, I heard a pounding at the back door, and I rushed through the house to find quite a look on John’s face. He said he’d cut his finger “really bad” and that I probably needed to take him to the emergency room. He wouldn’t let me look at it. I had to take his word for it.
I tried to fix my hair, put on makeup, and in other ways prepare to leave the house for a few hours, but John really didn’t want me to do that. He barked orders while writhing in pain from our bedroom floor with his head stuck under the dust ruffle so as to receive the maximum amount of cold air out of the air vent.
I really don’t know what I would have done had John passed out, as I don’t think I could have lifted him into the car, but praise the Lord it didn’t come to that.
The Emergency Room was very quick, all things considered, and John was talking to the doctor in no time. Talking…. and talking and talking. John says it was to keep his mind off of what they were doing. I still think the doctors slipped something in his drink. John talked about the mountains, trout fishing, Keith (his brother-in-law – whom the doctor reminded him of) and various other topics. John apologized many times for being a “wuss”, but the doctor assured him that most of the woozy patients he sees are middle-aged men… who are otherwise extremely tough – John bought it.
Three things we learned while in the emergency room:
1) John cannot handle sucking chest wounds…. nor can he handle flapping superficial ones.
2) Gunner needs to be around to show his father how to be brave in the ER (Gunner was a champ even amongst the yelling/screaming/crying/cursing/etc. – just kidding about the cursing)
3) Even when wounds are caused by razor blades while cutting something as masculine as kevlar, one’s man card must still be relinquished when he has to bite down on a bloody towel while getting the anesthetic shots to keep from crying.
After 8 stitches, John would like everyone to know that he’s fine, and that it was his left hand, so he can still shoot
…and that in some twisted way he’s going to enjoy having a medical reason for why he looks like he’s flipping people the bird all the time.