I referred to my Fourth of July injury in my status and some of you asked what exactly happened on the Fourth and some of you might just want to laugh at me. I thought I'd make it easier to tell by putting the story in a note.
As many people know, the Mummas do enjoy some fireworks on the Fourth of July. :) And, although we didn't have a large gathering here like we used to in Nebraska, we did have a few fireworks. Our neighbors on the other side of the duplex were also shooting off fireworks. We were all in the backyard which isn't separated, but spectators were always far away from what was being set off.
Well, our fireworks were done. Maranda, myself and a kid from across the street were toasting marshmallows and making s'mores. (We had a little firepit going.) I had just finished up a marshmallow and was walking over to the table where my graham cracker and chocolate were laying, when something came out of nowhere and hit me on the head. It felt like someone had come up behind me and hit me *hard* on the head with something big like a notebook or something. I said, "Ow" and felt like something was still in my hair. So, I figured it was something hot and started ruffling my fingers through my hair because I was much more worried that my hair was going to catch on fire.
I went to set down my marshmallow, still with one hand in my hair and thought my hand felt wet. It was kind of humid outside and the chairs had felt wet earlier, so I brought my hand down to look at it and it was all bloody. I told Maranda to go get Mark, because he was hanging out with the neighbors since they were still shooting things off. And, I leaned over a little away from my body so I wouldn't get my clothes all bloody, so blood starts splattering on the patio. This, of course, freaked Maranda out and she went running and crying for Mark.
He came over and so did the neighbors and their friends. One of the neighbors, who I thought was a nurse but she's actually a dental hygienist, came over and kind of took charge. She sent Mark off for something to put between her hand and my head while she put pressure on it. So, what does Mark come back with? A paper towel. BTW, this woman and I were the only two people that had had less than two margaritas that night. Everyone else was of no help.
After she puts pressure on it for a little bit, she looks at my head and then tells Mark that he needs to call 911. So, instead he starts asking if anyone there is in any shape to drive me to the emergency room, because he is not (which is generally true on any Fourth of July). (And, honestly, the assumption is always that he would be the one to get hurt on the Fourth, not me. I'm supposed to be the designated driver.) Nobody answers and, in my mind, the closest thing we've got to a medical professional has said to call 911, so I yell to just f*!^ing call 911. After Mark calls, he gets Maranda and the kid across the street to start picking up the remnants of the fireworks, because none of them are legal (as usual) and he doesn't want to get cited. So, Maranda (still crying) starts picking stuff up and putting it in a trash bag. The drunk neighbors are trying to tell her that I'm okay and I'm trying to tell her that I'm okay. However, I've got blood all over one hand, an arm, my leg and it's all over the patio and she's not buying it...any of it.
In the meanwhile, the woman that's helping me tells Mark to get a wet washcloth because the dry paper towel is sticking to my head and getting in the way of seeing what the deal is with the wound. There is some general debate between everyone there about whether I've been burned or cut and how deep it might be. By now, I'm just generally pissed off.
A couple minutes later, the neighbor looks at my head again and says it looks like the bleeding has almost stopped and maybe we don't need the ambulance. Mark calls back, but the dispatcher says they've already sent to the ambulance. So, we decide that I should go out front to sit and wait since all the fireworks remnants are out back. So, I go out front and sit down. Maranda is still crying and I don't want to hug her because I don't want to get blood all over her too.
An unmarked SUV pulls up with first-responder EMTs that come before the ambulance (I never knew about these types of folks, before). Three of them pile out of their vehicle and while they're trying to look at my head, one of them says, "Hi Maranda." I look at Mark wondering how the heck one of the EMTs knows my child. Mark asks her and it turns out that her son goes to school with Maranda and her son is in the backseat of the vehicle, so Maranda goes over to socialize with him while they're debating over the severity of my injury. Thankfully, that gets her mind off of the fact that her mother was bleeding all over everything. Then, the ambulance shows up. At this point, all fireworks in the entire neighborhood suddenly cease.
They come over, talk with the EMTs, look at my head and tell me that I have a V-shaped cut in my head and part of it looks like I need stitches. I tell them that I can get to the hospital, I don't want to pay for the ambulance ride and sign 5 forms that says I don't want to be transported, that they won't release my name and I don't know what else. Then a police officer shows up and wants to know where the fireworks came from and everyone's response is that we have no idea. We were just roasting marshmallows. I'm pretty sure he didn't buy it, but he didn't press it.
Finally, all the emergency personnel leave and I need to get to the hospital. Still there isn't anyone that can really drive me to the hospital, so I drive myself. Maranda was just starting to calm down, so I had Mark stay home with her. I didn't know what to expect in the emergency room and it really did hurt like hell, so I figured she didn't need to see anything else. I had to ask the EMTs where the nearest hospital was and if it would be in my insurance network. After they left, I had to go look up the hospital in the phonebook and get mapquest directions so I knew how to get there.
After I got to the hospital, they were very helpful and it was actually very quiet, so I was helped pretty quickly. Of course, I had to tell the story several more times and there continued to be debate about whether I was burned in addition to the cut and if I needed stitches. Finally, the doctor came in and decided that part of the v-shaped cut did need to be treated, but that I needed staples not stitches. The worst part of the whole thing was when he had to give me 2 or 3 shots in my head to numb the area before he stapled it. That *really* hurt. He also said that he could see some fatty tissue that meant that it was deeper than a superficial cut. I asked him if he was trying to tell me that I had a fat head and one of the nurses assured me that everyone has that same tissue. :)
So, now I have four staples in my head that you can see in the picture and a sore head. But, they come out on Tuesday night, which is good because I have to fly to Boston on Wednesday and I really didn't want to have to explain the staples at airport security.
