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Posts Tagged ‘foutain’

After much thought after the fact I have come to the conclusion that last week I did indeed have swine flu.  Last week I was too damn sick to care, though.

If you think you’re coming down with it, this site might be useful but you might see it in a more favorable light after you have recovered.

Honest, you’d not have seen me laugh at it last week.  This week it has a certain dry entertainment value.  Seriously, if you start running a raging fever, contact your doctor before the nasty bastard cough kicks in.  It all comes on pretty quick so within a day you’ll know if you’re sick or if you’re just being a weenie.  You’ll know.  You won’t need a FAQ sheet to know you’re sick.

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As hinted at in yesterday’s post titled “My Own Porch”, Hellboy (my male progeny) had a fountain fall on him.  It was a steel fountain.  Heavier than sin and twice as ugly.

The fountain fell on the three-year-old boy in the picture below.

gashed Hellboy

Hellboy with 16 stitches and a huge headache.

The story unfolded in the usual fashion, with great commotion and hysteria.  Not undeserved commotion at all, however.

Suddenly I heard a great deal of shouting and someone came around the corner screaming “Hellboy is hurt bad!”

I walk outside thinking “Ok, so he broke a finger or something…”

I arrive and am faced with a scene of outright carnage.  Blood is all over the boy, Cruel Wife is crying and trying to hold his thrashing body still with pressure to his head, in-laws have ahold of his little arms and legs, and the boy is shrieking.  Blood is splashed on the concrete.

I look over and see the now-toppled Fountain of Doom.  Notice how it hit hard enough to knock a 15lb paver out of the ring the fountain was in.

foutain of doom

Click to embiggenify the image.

I run inside and am looking for a phone.  Can’t find a phone.  Can’t find a phone.  Can’t find a damned phone!  Damn rental places!  Turns out they didn’t have one.  I whip out my cell phone and dial 911 and give them the address.  I tell them he’s got a huge laceration on his forehead and that he appears to be bleeding from the nose, which has me a bit concerned.  At this point I’m thinking injury in the sinus region and envisioning all manner of crushing injuries.

I ran to find GirlHead, who was distraught.  She wanted to see her brother and go with us.  I forcefully but gently assured her that she did not want to see him and that I would not permit it, and let her know that when it was ok to come see him I’d have one of her uncles drive her over to the hospital.

Three years pass and the ambulance arrives.  Cruel Wife and Hellboy move as a unit onto a stretcher and I ride shotgun.  The hospital is only 5 minutes away but takes hours to get there.

The ER staff expertly took him for CT scans and found him to be ok.  Noticing that he had a bunch of exposed bone in the wouund they went about preparations and stitched him up.  He was tough enough through the whole procedure, only crying twice – once as they injected the wound with epinephrine to slow the bleeding and lidocaine to deaden the area for stitching, and the second time was on the last stitch where the lidocaine hadn’t quite covered the eyebrow area.

I swelled with pride at how tough he was.  I told him that I’ve seen BIG GUYS carry on more than that for less, myself included.

The next day Hellboy was running a fever which gave us cause for alarm and he was put on antibiotics for that.  As it turned out he had the same fever/flu that I later came down with but either way the antibiotics were a good idea.

The rental owners had only this to say:  “Well, he shouldn’t have been climbing on the fountain.”   For legal reasons I won’t go into the specifics of the fountain itself other than to say that no engineer would have signed off on that monstrosity and that it is amazing that it even stood in the first place.

Sadly, for the rest of the week the pool and hot tub were off limits to Cruel Wife, Hellboy, and myself.  Only GirlHead was able to have access to the water.

A side note.  While we were gone and before any adult thought of it, my girl ran to find materials and started making a get-well card for her brother.  It said “Hirt bad get wel soon” and had all sorts of flowers and stickers on it and her name spelled out as pretty as can be.  Now if that isn’t enough to bring a tear to a daddy’s eye, I don’t know what is.

The rest of the week was spent going from place to place in Seattle, and the high point of that for me was visiting Pike St. Market and getting a Pork Hombow.

pork hombow

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