Pappy is still a little sleepy this morning. I have been away from the computer for two days on a grandfatherly mission. On Wednesday evening past, I was taking my evening nap before retiring when the phone rang. Bebe had to answer as I was having trouble getting the couch to let me go. I couldn't make out the caller from her responses, but she told me we need to go to the hospital and meet the kids. I pressed her for details and she said that my grandson had fallen and cut himself. I managed to muster enough steam to get dressed and make it to the local hospital. When we arrived, we got more details from my son-in-law who by this time had gotten himself thrown out of the emergency room. They were visiting friends for dinner when my grandson (2 years plus) backed across the floor stumbled, knocked over a water glass, and fell on the broken pieces cutting his wrist. They rushed him to our local hospital emergency room while trying to stem the blood flow from an arterial bleeder. As they sat in the ante room with the admitting person, she slowly went through her routine questions: Do you have your insurance card? What is your name? Last name first, first name last - all the while little arterial spurts were covering everyone in blood. My son-in-law lost it and security was called to escort him out. The line in front of the admitting area glass all joined in and tried to admonish the single purposed clerk to hurry and get some help. This was over by the time Pappy arrived. Fortunate for those who work in our so called emergency room. I could have shown them how a real emergency is to be handled. By the time I arrived, the bleeding had been stopped and doctors were assessing the situation. Because of my grandson's age, the local doctors decided to have him transferred to a pediatric hospital two hours north. An ambulance was notified and within a short two hours we were almost ready to start our journey. By now it was approaching midnight and my son-in-law had used up his rational reserves, so I volunteered to drive him as we followed the ambulance with my grandson and daughter aboard to the specialty hospital. We arrived on Thursday at 2:00 AM and got checked in. The pediatric surgeon was to see him very early and determine what if anything needed to be done. By 3:30 AM I had secured a room and managed to melt into bed. I awoke early and returned to the hospital. The doctor reported that my grandson had cut a tendon and severed one artery. Most people have two arteries going to the hand, but God had given my grandson three. The doctor just capped the extra artery, repaired the tendon, determined there was no nerve damage, and sewed him up. He came through like a champ. Of course getting out of the hospital is almost as complicated as getting in, so we didn't get to leave until after 4:00 PM. I drove the kids back. We arrived home at 6:30 PM. Bebe had a nice dinner waiting. I ate and made ready to hit the sack. I was sleeping like a baby until 4:00 AM when a cramp in my left calf tried to roll my foot up to my knee backwards. I managed finally to get the affected foot to the floor and stretch it out. The rest is history. Coffee was made, blog comments read, and here I am again doing what I do.
I didn't really say everything I said. - Yogi Berra