When Ouch! is an Understatement

I drove my husband to the emergency room yesterday.  He had his finger wrapped in a bloodied cloth and was going into shock.  Somehow, trying to open one of those impossible plastic packages with a knife, he managed to almost amputate the tip of his finger off.  My stomach was a mass of flip flops and it wasn't even my finger.  I just kept praying that he'd be okay and be able to keep his finger tip.

Sitting in the waiting room of the ER was the worst.  He was in a wheelchair and so pale.  I wanted to scream, "Take him back!  I don't care if someone is ahead in line, take him PLEASE NOW!"  The wait wasn't too long, but it felt like it was.

The kids and I stayed in the waiting room while he went back.  Ethan wanted to make sure Daddy wouldn't die and I was beyond grateful that I knew the answer to that one.  We ate chips from the vending machine and the minutes passed slowly.

We went back to visit him after he was stitched up.  He has stitches around the whole finger tip with one going straight through his fingernail.  It had come so close to getting cut all the way off.  My stomach is still nauseated thinking about it.  He'll have to wear a huge bandage for the next ten days, but I can't imagine it will be better enough by then to want to stop wearing bandages then.  It will be a long road, but in the end I think his finger will be okay.

Meanwhile, he can't write or type much.  It's his first finger on his right hand.  I'm sure that will make work in the coming weeks really great for him.

I'm just really glad he's okay.  Glad his finger will be okay.  Glad no one passed out!  Glad I have a wonderful husband.

 May today be forgettable in the most comfortable way.