|Thought this image was scary enough without being too graphic.|
Yesterday was one of those days where I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. Handyman was here, putting the new shower head in (one of those handheld things on a rail), Wayne was finishing off the front end of the retaining wall and I was lost sheeping (wandering around wondering what to do), when Wayne solved my problem.
He thought spending the rest of the day in the emergency ward of the Royal Hobart Hospital would be a good way to pass the time.
He wanted to even off the tops of the posts on the wall and thought the chainsaw was the easiest way to do it. All was going fine, though not exactly neat, when the chainsaw kicked back.
I was there. I saw it happen. I started yelling and swearing at him before he jumped back, blood dripping down his leg.
Man. If he really wanted to cut his shorts off shorter he could have asked to use my scissors!
Luckily the chainsaw didn’t cut off his leg. There was a big deep cut on his leg just above the knee though.
I’ve had first aid training. I was prepared.
I ran around screaming, in a panic.
Thank goodness Handyman was there. He asked me to get a towel and tape and asked me to calm down. He wrapped the leg in the towel, secured it with the tape while I got the car and drove Wayne to the e.r. where he eventually got 15 stitches to show off to his friends. Eventually, 4 hours later.
What can I say about emergency rooms? I’ve been to one myself four times (once in an ambulance). This time was no better.
I really wonder about their priorities. Wayne saw the triage nurse who removed the towel and put on a dressing, then he was asked to wait. And wait. And wait.
While we waited we saw all kinds of things. People walking in who looked totally healthy and not in pain, yet they were seen straight away. I realise there may be more to a case than meets the eye, but..
A guy with a broken toe was seen before Wayne.
A broken toe. One of the smaller toes.
I’ve had a broken big toe and I didn’t get an xray or anything. I was told to go home, rest and keep it elevated. I did get a set of crutches though.
One guy came in with his partner, dressed for a wedding or something, and told the triage nurse he’d been having heart palpitations for 48 hours.
48 hours. He could have gone to his doctor. But he waited till Saturday afternoon to go to emergency.
Say the word heart and you get seen straight away.
Another group seemed to be having a social occasion, friends arrived and gathered as we waited. “Bit bored today. Think we’ll go hang out at the emergency ward.”
I was in the middle of giving Wayne a lecture – all about how if he’d cut his leg right through and it was hanging by a thread, how he’d have bled out before I could get him to hospital, let alone wait for an ambulance – when a guy walked by holding a single shoe in his hands. Oops. Hope his partner didn’t lose her leg….
Anyway, Wayne is fine. Physically. Mentally I’m no so sure about.
And he’s in the dog house as well.
Though that expression is wrong for this instance cause around here it means the lap of luxury cause the dogs are more part of the family than we are.
I’m not very happy with him right now. I mean, he’s made a mess of the retaining wall. It looks like crap.
Plus, I had things I could have done in the city. If he’d needed to go in earlier I could have gone shopping while he waited in the e.r. How inconsiderate can he be?
I really could have done without that.