Today was supposed to be different. Or maybe it wasn't. Either way, I was expecting it to be different.
Cris was going to stay home because the wind was so strong (it blew over a stop sign in front of his eyes!) that he was unable to accomplish the task he had set up for the day, and there was no other work on the table. Then, he found some work to go do alone. He usually does when there is nothing to do. So he was going to work for a few hours and come home early. Boo-yah!! We were looking forward to him being home for part of the day!
Everything was going along smoothly, when a phone call interrupted it all. First, I assure you (SPOILER ALERT!) that everyone is okay. No one is dead, or near death, or unconcious anymore.
Back to the story. Cris phones me. His voice is a little shakey. He says, "I need you to do me a favor. I need you to gather up the boys very quickly and come and get me. I need your help. I drilled a hole in my hand. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa......." His voice trailed off with this very weak groan. I hung up the phone, and, I must admit, for the first time, I experienced helpful adrenaline. Normally, if I get an adrenaline rush it leaves me feeling shakey and weak, which seems so contradictory to it's intended purpose. But perhaps that happens when there is a threat, followed by an immediate remedy of the situation - like a coyote darting in front of the car, narrowly missing connecting with the bumper, and then speeding off back into the bush.
I started barking out orders to the boys. "Get your shoes on. Straight to the car. Daddy's hurt." If I didn't know my boys, I'd think they had been trained by military. They were very quick, very calm, very serious, but not in a freaking out sort of way. We were screaching out of the driveway in the same minute that Cris had called. I had a clear head. I didn't forget my keys (obviously...because I was driving the car), I didn't forget my wallet or my bag...I had it all together. The 3 of us worked together like an efficient, effortless machine.
I had this great idea to put on my hazard lights as I was speeding through traffic, weaving in and out, driving 120 km/hr through the city. I don't even do 120 km/hr on the highway! With the wind, the car sounded like it was going to break apart. But I didn't care. Some people were kind enough to move out of the way for me, and for that I am very thankful. Then I started to feel like I was going to break down. I started envisioning him, laying in the parking lot, with a pool of blood all around him and chunks of flesh on the ground, in immense pain. I had hoped he called 9-1-1. I asked the boys to pray for him. I started praying "Please send someone to help him. Please send someone to help him. Please send someone to help him. Please send someone to help him." I realized I was shouting this out over and over, but I could not stop even though I tried. Okay...so maybe I was overreacting. But if you've ever seen "Slumber Party Massacre", you KNOW how much damage a drill can do!!!
We arrived to the site in record time. Now what? Where was he? I went inside the building, and all I saw was a large staircase going up, and a large staircase going down. I started cursing whoever designed this building so poorly. Where is reception. It should be right THERE, where the stairs were. Stupid design. I take my curse back now though. I ran back outside and saw the top of Cris' truck. As I was sprinting towards it, he got out of the front seat. My eyes searched for a bandaged hand. I was shaking, but so relieved to see him walking and not screaming in pain.
Then I found out he had drilled a hole through his index finger, not his palm, like I was envisioning. The drill went in and almost through to the other side. I was shaking, and Cris held me, trying to calm me down. That's backwards. Isn't that funny how it usually works that way, though?
We didn't even end up going to emergency at the hospital. The drill bit was narrow, he did not want stitches. He just needed me to come get him because he was going into shock.
What had happened was that he drilled a hole through his finger and immediately stopped and put pressure on it. He knew he couldn't keep working, so he started packing up his tools. He was taking them out to his truck when he started to feel nauseous. He didn't think he could drive. So he called to ask me to come pick him up. His thinking was that he needed to get some antibiotics and start on them right away. And that was it. But he couldn't explain that to me on the phone, because while he was talking to me, he passed out!! His injuries from passing out are almost more bothersome than the hole made by the drill. He banged his head and nose on rock or concrete, leaving him with a massive headache and probably a contusion. When he woke up, he was confused and then remembered what had happened and tried to call me again. Our home call display tells me there was 5 minutes between phone calls.
Anyways, it turns out that God did send someone to help him. It was me. And he was okay. He is on antibiotics, still recovering from some shock, but he isn't complaining about any pain. And to be frank, I'm not going to ask him again because he is REALLY annoyed with me asking him "Are you okay?" Okay...I can't promise I'm not going to ask him again, but I'm trying really hard not to.
A few hours later he was at home resting, when he got a call from one of our tenants because there was water leaking from the kitchen ceiling. Awesome. (That's a sarcastic one.) I tried to go with him, but he insisted I only drive him back to his truck and then go back home. The boys were supposed to go to their club this evening, so I was going to take them. We didn't go because on the way back home I realized how stressed I was when a minivan cut me off and I started to cry. So I decided not to stress out about getting the boys to their club, especially because they would have to arrive late. Anyways, Cris ended up fixing the leak in one evening, still in slight shock from earlier in the day, and just has to go back to do ceiling / drywall repair, which is really not important in this story.
I can still feel the elevated cortisol in my blood. I'm sure my arteries got a little harder today...
And right now, my boys are playing a game on the iPad together. One is dressed in cozy long-sleeved pj's with long bottoms and socks, and the other one is totally naked except for his eyeglasses. And Cris is smiling. I'm so glad he's smiling.
