Busy Busy

I had a plan for St. Patrick's day to write up some expectations for the evening working at the bar--one of two in the little town I dwell. I like that bars exist but I've never really hung out in one previous to working at one.

I don't go into work until 7pm. I had lots of time before work and I was playing catch with my son in the back yard, pondering the evening. The backyard has flagstone which has extremely sharp edges so when my son went down on one knee it was no wonder it split it open. From across the yard I knew it would be stitches.

"Eww! Gross!" My 12-year old half-bastard said when he looked at his knee. I ruffled his hair and told him we were going to see the doctor. The gash was severe enough it required five deep stitches before ten normal stitches.

The admitting nurse and the doctor had different opinions about the wound. The nurse asked us if we we had a knee brace at home. He was peering into the separated knee-flesh with a worried look. "Like one that doesn't let your knee bend?" He looked up to make sure he had my wife and I's attention. "Movement is going to be an issue."

So when the doc came in all smiley and happy I was thinking of ways to keep a 12 year old boy from bending his knee. I would definitely have to hid his skateboard The doctor sewed him up while I envisioned the stitches popping at the seems. Ambulance rides. Emergency knee saving surgery.

When the doctor was finished he told my son to move leg. "Go ahead. Bend it."

My son tentatively lifted his leg. There was fear scared.

"Come on! Your skin is rubbery. You're not going to pop anything." He pushed my kid's foot up to demonstrate and get the show on the road.

"You're going to want to move it around. Jog some but maybe hold off on full speed running."

"So no brace required?" I asked.

"What? No, no, no. You're going to want to limit any activity where falling is a real possibility, keep the wound as clean and as dry as possible but let it breathe." He pointed at the boy. "Take quick showers too."

The doctor left and the same nurse came in to bandage and wrap up my son's knee. "No brace required." I said.

"That's good." He said. "You're lucky."

I knew myself well enough to leave it at that. I was irritated past the point of saying something constructive to the point of waiting for the doctor to be the doctor and if he wanted to flap his nurse mouth he needed to seek more schooling. Working with teenagers I saw plenty of stitch-requiring wounds and it didn't phase me. It was just something to take care of. Seeing my son's blood coming from a deep, fatty-tissue exposing cut was different. It was more charged.

Later I was able to tell myself the nurse was probably doing his best he could. His intention was most likely to help. He had no way of knowing what my brain would do with the information, inaccurate at it may have been.

The experience did help me with the shit-crazy night at the bar where I was no allowed to drink--even though I am Irish. I was able to remind myself how not punching the dude in the face was the right choice then and it was probably the right choice with Drunky McDrunk.