I have managed–barely–to top 30K words on Having a Pint. I’d planned to be much further along, by now. Last week, however, was…less than conducive to writing.
We’ve needed a new riding mower for a while. The one we have works, for the most part, but it was second hand and beat to hell when we got it. And last weekend, Andrew went to shop for one. As he was leaning over (way over) to look underneath it, he lost his balance and fell on his shoulder…just exactly in the right way to dislocate it.
I was not there–my mother-in-law was with him. She called me from the urgent care parking lot and told me that they were there because Andrew had hurt himself. No details, not her fault–they didn’t know exactly what had gone bad until the urgent care had a chance to look him over. Not long after that, she calls again to tell me that she’s driven him from urgent care to the emergency room because urgent care wasn’t equipped to handle whatever. She wasn’t sure at that point. Mostly because she’d done the transport, and Andrew was in too much pain to answer questions.
About 4:00 or so, I finally got a call from Andrew. With an explanation of exactly what had gone wrong–dislocated shoulder–and that they’d knocked him out briefly to put it back.
Yeah…about three and a half hours of suppressed panic to not scare the kids.
I’m thankful it wasn’t worse, but this…really did me in for being able to think for most of the week.