Why yes, we did spend the 4th of July at the ER, thanks for asking! Oh, Neel. really, it's nothing big to report. First let me tell you about Hurricane Arthur. Now there's the real story.
It did slam just south of us as a Hurricane 2, but somehow the track and speed of this one made the impacts minimal, unless you count the tornado sirens going off in the middle of the night. Now that as much as Neel's hand was the big talk of our neighborhood BBQ.
"Did you hear the sirens last night?"
"Yeah! We grabbed the cat and the kid and headed straight for the laundry room. Did you?"
(Gleefully) "Slept right through them!"
I heard them. Apparently I'm in charge when it comes to weather. First my phone went off. I usually keep it downstairs at night but because of the storm, I'd brought it up to our room. Neel had to tell me, "Your phone's going off." I looked, it said tornado warning, and I laughed, saying, "This is why I brought it upstairs!" (My system worked!) Then I went back to bed.
A few minutes later, around 1:30 AM, the sirens went off, a loud, low siren rising to a deep crescendo that was accompanied by an alarming Big Brother-esque voice. "[Garbled}... Take shelter immediately." This was more concerning. The sirens come from the university a few blocks away, and if they're going off... Well, what do they know that I don't know? So I stumbled down stairs and all was quiet. Really, really still except for birds singing. At 1:30 AM?
You know what Cal said to me when I finally decided to get him and Neel up and have them come downstairs? What he says every morning when it's time to get up. "I'll be there in a minute."
All our drama came the next day. And it wasn't that dramatic, really. You may remember from Instagram pictures way back the toilet on my back deck. It's been there so long, we should have planted flowers in it. Or gotten a fish. Really, Neel's just been waiting for room in the trash bin to throw it out, and that day came on Friday. While I was in the shower. I come into our bedroom to find him wrestling the thing to the ground, trying to the tank off. He gets a funny look on his face, almost like he's forgotten something and comes into the house. "I cut myself."
Knowing we'll need to staunch some blood, I look down at the fluffy white towel that I'm currently wrapped in. "Is it bad?"
"Emergency Room bad?"
The porcelain had shattered as he'd tried to pull the tank off the base and it sliced his hand. Many of you have met Neel and many of you have heard the story about how I heard him laugh before I ever laid eyes on him. He's hard to rattle. He's laid back and easy going. So when he says it's bad, I believe him, but he never acts like it's bad. We clearly need something to wrap his hand, and I have the presence of mind not to use my fluffy white towel and grab some old wash cloths. (The towel goes around my sopping wet hair.) We pull on clothes, we lock up the dogs, and I call Cal who is across the street at his friends' house.
As we try to sneak out the door with Neel's hand wrapped in a towel, Cal's friends' dad (Who is Italian. And a soccer coach.) meets us in the street, his head in his hands. "NEEL! WHAT HAPPENED!"
It's really quite sweet. And loud. But more touching than anything.
But really? The whole thing was super easy and we were in and out super fast. (We were early enough to beat the drunks and the fireworks, I guess.) They worried about bone and tendon damage, but it looks like all the problems seem minimal. His blood pressure was pretty high when he got there and the nurses asked, is there a reason why it would be this high? Neel's answer? "I'm freaking out."
They were stunned. You're so happy, they told him! Yeah, that's Neel.
We sat around for the rest of the weekend. He tried to do to much, and I got irritated (I'm generally less happy, it seems.), but all in all he's healing nicely.
The toilet still sits on my back balcony. He calls it his Everest.