blood! gore! lasers!

I try to keep the blog fun and funny, but sometimes dammit, I just don’t feel it. The weather lately has been rainy and dreary in the extreme, the days are getting shorter and I really, really just find it hard to get out of bed. However, pretty much everyone I talk to is also feeling the same way, so I know it’s just this time of year. No snow yet to brighten the light, the rain is a sad drizzle and I can feel nature withdrawing for the upcoming winter. The Darkness is approaching.

Blah.

There has been a bit of excitement here and there, though. The other day we had this freak electrical storm with massive (and very close) bursts of lightning and thunder. And, as we live in what is basically a tin box on the roof of a building, I definitely was worried about that lightning. I made Rich sit down, because if that lightning came through the ceiling, it would hit his big ol’ head first thing, him being the tallest thing in the house.

Then on Tuesday morning, Rich was getting ready for work and I was desperately trying to not wake up (“just five more minutes and I’ll get up…ok, five more…OK ok five more…”). I heard Rich go "Ow...oh...ooh!" in the bathroom. Not a normal holler, but like, with an edge to it. I knew it wasn't the usual cut himself shaving ow...it was quietly panicked, with a bit of an upturn in his voice that means ‘eek!’

So I got up and went to him, and he had gashed the living shit out of his hand on the sharp edge of the shower wall. This shower has been a problem from the start. It’s made of glass blocks and it’s edged with this aluminum strip that was not put on flush and so the edges are KNIFE sharp. It’s actually a hazard. Here we are in this posh flat, and they build the shower in the cheapest way possible? I don’t get it. Anyhow, he got the top of his hand but good and it just sliced like a ripe peach. Really gross. You could see the workings of his hand. He was trembling and freaked out, but it wasn’t bleeding that badly and he said it did not hurt. We put a towel on it while I looked around for a bandage and he got dressed. I bandaged it up and was surprised that I did not feel sick. Not sure why, I always thought I was a squeamish git but apparently not. I found something to wear and managed to get my hair somewhat down from its pillow-centric state and then we had to find someone to stitch him up.

SO, we weren't sure where to go to get it fixed. The hospital? That's in the next town, about an 8 minute train ride away by express train, or an expensive cab ride. Couldn't think of anywhere else to go, it was 8am and would anything be open anyhow? Our doctor is in a town that is not on the express train line, and we didn't know of a local place we could go. Did we have to be registered at a doctor to go there?. Are any of the legesenters (local doctor's offices) open and could we go w/o an appointment? Is there an emergency clinic? Maybe we should have figured this out sooner?

Rich insisted he was ok to take the train, his hand really wasn’t bleeding, just sort of oozing, and the train is actually quicker than a cab in the morning rush hour. As we waited for the train I called work to say I'd be late. My boss, who rocks, said the local legesenter was very good and we could probably get in there, because she had gone there in an emergency once as well.. And best of all, it was only about 300 feet away.

So we skipped catching the train and went there. We waited about 15 minutes, while I fumed over the rude woman who kept cutting and pushing in front of EVERYONE who walked in wanting to know when SHE was going to get in. I tried shooting her dead with the laser beams in my eyes, but they obviously don’t work without coffee as the energy booster. The woman behind the glass told her to chill out, and she would be called in due time, that emergencies come first. (In my head I did the little “ha ha” from the Simpsons. You know the one…) They called in Rich fairly quickly and Boy-o got five stitches, a tetanus shot and a little talk about how lucky he is that he didn't slice tendons.
While he got stitched, I ran to 7-11 to get a coffee and ran into one of his co-workers, Grant, who’s Scottish (not that this is germain to the discussion, but I just like to always say that Grant is Scottish) and told him that Rich was SPEWING blood everywhere, like a fountain, or like the Black Knight ("It's just a flesh wound!").
OK, not.
But I did tell Grant that Rich was hurt and to spread it around work so that he’d get lots of sympathy the next day. After the doctor Rich spent the rest of the day home with the TV and a cup of coffee. The stitches are very nicely done, and I think he will have minimal scarring. It all cost about $60 and took a little over an hour from start to finish, so woo to the Norwegian health care system. I’ve always been very pleased with the health care here. Way better than in the States, at least for basic stuff. I don’t know about hospitals, but have heard mostly good things.

I went on directly to work afterwards and felt pretty gross without a shower and with some pretty bad bedhead as well. Not my most glamorous day at work…..