Don’t Be Alarmed, Part 1

Other townhouse excitements included finding, losing and then re-finding Miss Fred (see note below) a washing machine and dryer set we bought for a gallon of vodka and $20.00 which caused a slight flood, and the following escapade.

Jeff was somewhat of a night-owl. Most nights, he would rise in the middle of the night for a drink of water or a snack of cold canned butter-beans (truth.) Most of the time, he would watch TV for a bit, read a chapter or two, and find his way back to bed.

One night, a little past 2:30 AM, I heard Jeff calling. “Could you please come down here? And DON’T BE ALARMED!”

Besides the actual words, the tone of voice told me something was off, and I probably should be alarmed.

I flew out of bed, down the stairs, turned at the landing, stepped onto the linoleum by the front door and took off like I was gliding onto the ice readying for a toe loop.  I got back up pretty quickly, but was confused by what I saw.

“Don’t panic,” he said. “I’m bleeding. “

Bleeding.  Jeff’s hand was slapped over a leg spot that was oozing dark red over his fingers and running onto the floor. That meant that the red wall splatters were… I felt a little faint.

“It’s happened before,” he explained, “we just need to go to the ER. Can you find something to hold on it?”

I grabbed a napkin. Less than a second later, it was saturated.

I ran for paper towels. When I returned, Jeff was nowhere to be found.

“Jeff?!” I called out. “Yeah,” he answered, “I’m in the kitchen.”

“I have paper towels,” I called, circling back around the center post to where Jeff wasn’t, either.

“Jeff?!” I called out.

After another circle and a half, I exasperatedly demanded, “Where the (h-e-double hockey sticks) are you? And for God’s sake stand still!” Yes, I swore (surprise), which made Jeff laugh, so it was easier to find him.

The wad of paper towels worked for 3 seconds. I ran back to the kitchen for a dish towel, which lasted the 30 seconds it took me to put on sneakers, and grab a jacket. So, I ran upstairs for a bath towel. By the time I came down, Jeff had retrieved a roll of silver duct tape from the closet.

In unspoken agreement I wrapped the towel around his leg and held it while he secured it with duct tape.

We ran to the car, where Jeff hesitated. “I don’t want to get blood in the car,” he said, I imagine with the same amount of concern he offered when he did not want his new jeans cut off of him.

“Get in the car!” I pointed, and he did. He sat in the passenger seat behind me, dangling his left leg out the open door. I know that sounds insane, but Herrick Hospital was about 3 blocks away, one block over, it was 3:00 AM in the morning and there wasn’t any traffic.

In order to explain what happened next, I should tell you there were numerous time when Jeff pointed out that he thought I hugged curbs too closely when I turned corners. I hadn’t ever hit anything, so I didn’t pay too much mind.

Anyway, there he was with his leg and foot hanging out the door. I turned into the hospital drive quickly, scouting ahead for a spot. Jeff made a strangled, startled, scared sound and the next thing I knew, the car’s back door was slamming and all of his body parts were inside the car.

In this case, I have to agree, I did cut the curb too close. There was an orange-painted cement post at the entrance to the ER, as a guideline, I suppose. I’m just thankful Jeff was alert enough to yank himself fully inside and shut the door. Otherwise, the door would have hit the post, the post would have refused to give and … shudder… his foot would not likely still be attached.

There was a little bit of yelling about that.

I slid into an “Emergency Drop-Off Only” space, put the car in park, and jumped out to accompany Jeff in through the double glass sliding doors.

Quote for the Week:

2016 04 12 I learned through experience red towel and duct tape jakorte

Enjoy This Week’s Discovery Links:

First Aid ala Duct Tape:

In Case This Happens to You:

Can of Beans:

In Case You Missed Miss Fred:


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