Anatomy of an ER visit . . .

Recently, there was a bit of a big "ta-doo" of sorts and the Sandy HQ.  It started with a BANG.  Yes, quite literally.  Many of you have heard the story of how the Hubs tried to blow himself into meaty man bits and bones and yes, it was scary and terrifying and all that . . .

Being several weeks post explosion, we can look back and laugh a little.  Not like a chuckle.  That would be inappropriate, you freaks.

Anyway, when Hubs tells the story it's all about the explosion.  When I recount the events, I think about the sequence of things and what exactly ran through my head during those moments as I've not experienced the likes of such an emergency that we had on that sunny summer Saturday afternoon.

1.)  I'm in the living room folding laundry.  Watching "The Blind Side" for the first time.  Working hard to keep it together and not cry like a baby all over little people's socks and underwear.  She soooo deserves that Oscar.  Mike and the kids are swimming in the back yard.

2.)  "BOOOOOOM" from the back yard.

3.)  My first thought was, Damn, those birds running into the windows keep getting bigger.  Wait, that sounded like a Hippo hitting the glass.  Better check it out.


4.)  I head to the back yard and hear my little Snake wailing.  Hubs is carrying him.  I don't know why but I thought the loud sound and my baby Boy crying had something to do with him potentially falling off the roof.  Yeah, he's just that kind of boy.

5.)  Now, at this point, I cannot give you exact sequence of dialogue because it's a bit fuzzy but I'll do my best  to recall it for you:
      Me:  "What happened"
      Hubs:  "Take him"
      Me:  "What happened!"
     Hubs:  "Is he okay?  Check him!"
     Me:  "What the F*&# happened!"
            "What am I checking him for?"
             "Why is he crying?"
              "Is he hurt?  Did he fall"
   Hubs:  "Turn on the hose"
     Me:   "Okay - - - What the $&*+ happened?"
   Hubs:  "$0d #%$$+"
    Me:   "Where's Soph?"
  Hubs:  "She's swinging"

6.)  I look out and She is in fact, still swinging.  Apparently oblivious to the emergent situation that has just unfolded 25 yards in front of her.  So, she may not have a career as any sort of "First Responder".

7.)  Looking back over to the husband, I see him pretty much shoving the water hose into the giant hole that once was his entire shin.  I believe I again screamed, "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED!"  Oh, and the boy is still screaming and crying and shaking in my arms.

8.)  I gathered from the bits of communication that there was an explosion of something over in the pool pump area.  Husband received the brunt of the damage but the blast picked up our son and deposited him back down several feet behind him.

THEN, something (or someone else) took over my self because I don't know how we calmly did what we did but it goes like this . . .

9. - 14.)  HUBS gets into the shower as there are bits of plastic and chunks of chlorine burning through the blasted flesh.  I instruct little daughter to get clothes on as we're going to the hospital.  This excited her beyond reason.  Baby boy reaks of highly concentrated chlorine so I hose him down, whip off his wet clothes, diaper and change him like he's a NASCAR and I'm the pit crew and then locate medical tape while also throwing juice boxes and a snack and the portable DVD player in my purse, confirm with sweet daughter that "Yes, that outfit in fact does look good to wear to the hospital and they will all love it and I don't know what kind of toys they have there" and then load kids into the car - helped bandage husband's leg with paper towels and tape and get him to the car and get to the emergency room.

That was the craziest 15 minutes of my life.

15.)  The ER is very close and being a hospital in the suburbs, thankfully seeing very little action on a Saturday night.  They did, however, seem a little too "laissez faire" about treating my husband so I asked him very loudly if he had in fact, explained to them that chlorine was "BURNING THROUGH HIS SHIN GUTS" as we speak.  That got Delores (seems like a good ER name) to get him back to Triage faster.

16.)  We were only there for 2 1/2 hours.  While husband was back getting his tetanus shot, 20 shots of lidocaine, stitches and chunks of plastic and chlorine extracted from his meaty gross wound . . .

17.) WE, the lucky and unscathed (especially the boy whom I thought had kartwheeled off the roof) sat in the waiting room watching the same 3 episodes of Scooby Doo and dining on an entire box of My Little Pony gummy snacks and Cheeze Its while the boy proceeded to touch everything that could possible be covered in germs, hazardous waste, snot or Lord help me, Poo.  Thus, it was a pretty rockin' evening for the kids.  We even got to visit Daddy back in the triage room.  Sweet daughter was so thrilled she didn't stop grinning the whole time.  The boy, ugh, more touching of all gross things.

In the end, everyone is okay.  Sweet husband has a huge shiny new pink scar after all the scabs have been scraped off and has taken a lot of crap about not making the best use of his chemistry degree.  He did drive around to reassure the neighbors who seemed very concerned that our explosion could be the sign of a Meth ring in the burbs.  He's so thoughtful like that.  I learned that we can be calm and cool in a crisis . . . even the kids.  Well, they weren't "calm and cool" so much as excited and well behaved.  I've also learned that if you're going to blow up your leg, do it in the suburbs where there's not much else going on in the ER but a few dehydrated stomach virus stragglers.  Oh, and bring your own snacks and juice boxes.  Just don't blow through them in the first 10 minutes.  Ha, no pun intended!

Ewwww.