Well….we had a little accident this week.
By “we,” I mean my 9-year old, who, while messing around a cub scout meeting Sunday night, caught his finger in a folding chair. Minutes before this happened, I had seen him doing that thing – lifting himself up in the chair, folding it up under him – why this was entertaining, I don’t know, but I did shoot him a look and waved a finger at him. He sat down, but, as I said, minutes later….I looked up again and there was a crowd of adults around his chair..and blood.
The cut was deep and open enough that the nurse-mom who was present recommended a trip to the ER. If it had not been Sunday night, I would have simply gone to an ambulatory care center, and even without that, in retrospect, I think, with a good bandage, we could have waited until the morning to fix it.
But, in the moment, with what looked like a big, deep, fleshy gash, I thought, “Might as well take care of it now. How long could it take?”
So yes, I’ll rant. There was a physician’s assistant there. She did the intake. Why she couldn’t have just glued him up right there, I have no idea. But instead, we had to go back out and wait two hours for an x-ray, then wait an hour for the doctor, and then wait a little bit more for him to get his stuff together (he was very nice) and glue the finger up, instructing us to go see the pediatrician in a week.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out why this process took so long. I suppose triage was in action, which means that our very minor situation was pushed to the bottom of the list, but there’s something about that that doesn’t make sense, if you have personnel free who can actually take care of the problem as it appears at your door. It was a busy night. As far as I could tell, there was one doctor on the floor. But still….
(We are lucky. Knock on wood, we hardly every use the medical system. This was the second or third time in my life I’ve been in an ER, between the three off us and not counting check-ups, we average two visits a year to a doctor of one sort or another. Nothing chronic, no big problems. These boys are healthy anyway, but I’m sure that not being in school for the past two years has done nothing but help that situation. We’ll see what this winter, with one in close quarters with other kids on all day, will bring.
But anyway. That’s done and lesson learned. I talked to people all week who said things like, “Yeah, we had to take Junior in to another hospital for three stitches on his chin and we were there for five hours,” so this was not unique. We spent a lot of time watching and listening to a lot of people with serious problems. We had a lot of people to pray for, and a reminder of how fortunate we are in our good health.
I heard the story of Daddy’s collapse at least five times as it was told to visitors and over the phone, and I have to believe that there’s a reason that I was in a position to hear, over and over again, “He always said that if he went while he was in church, he’d count it as a blessing.”
Adventures! In Assisi!
The interviews and such are starting to accumulate. I was on the Son Rise Morning Show this morning, Ann is welcoming a Very Important Documentary Crew into her home next week (actually..well, not quite. But there will be cameras and she’ll have a chance to talk about her process, and I’ll let you know when it’s airing and where to see it.) I’ll alert you as more pop up.
Are you following the Bearing Blog family’s trip to Europe? It’s wonderful. I marvel at her coherence and ability to write so well on the run.
Speaking of travel, today Michael and I took a little field trip. There are so many wonderful places to go around here, and I’m just sorry that we’re so chained down at the moment. There are a couple of days during the week we can go places, but we need to be back by 3 for the other kid’s school dismissal. Weekends are eaten up at this point by scout activities, birthday parties and soon, basketball.
(We did go to Charleston last weekend though – if you follow me on Instagram, you might have picked up on that. Why Charleston, you ask? Because that’s where son, daughter-in-law and (yes) grandson (!) live. So we try to head over there as frequently as we can. We wish they were closer, but hey, if we have to go somewhere, we’ll take Charleston. )
Anyway, the field trip today was to the Natural Bridge of Alabama – the longest one east of the Mississippi – take that, Virginia!
About an hour away, a very nice, simple outing. Old School tourism.
In addition to the bridge, lots of caves – not deep caves, more like overhangs. But that’ll do in a pinch.
He did his cursive and copywork before we left, then did some worksheets in the car and then talked up a storm to me about everything from various Amazonian animals to the Lord of the Rings to Harry Potter during our walk through the trees and amidst the rocks.
Earlier this week, he was very pleased, because a grocery store clerk greeted his presence at my side in the early afternoon with a cheerful, “Are you homeschooled? rather than the usual lame, “Skipping school today, eh?”
She even asked what cover school we used.
You add that to the ER doctor’s story about his own son whom they homeschooled, and it was an affirming week, homeschool-wise.
Where we went to Mass on Sunday…a gorgeous church with amazing music. Chant, good hymnody, superbly done but not showy, absolutely in support of authentic worship. The priest, in his late 60’s or early 70’s, was of the generation that had been formed to preside as if the congregation’s experience of God depended on their cheerfulness. He gazed out us, grinning, during the entire Mass. A good chunk of the homily was about he, himself and him. As I said, this is the way these guys were trained. They were taught that (clears throat, assumes mellifluous tones) the assembly’s experience of the Risen Lord’s presence among them begins with their experience of a hospitable and affirming environment, which of course begins with the Presider.
As I said, I’m sure this is what he was taught, and the man has helped more people in their times of need over the past month than I will my whole life. But still. Stop smiling at me, stop welcoming me, stop looking at me and just pray, please.
(The problem, however is that when a priest – usually one of the younger ones – affects a more solemn demeanor, they are taken to task by other parishioners who wonder why Father can’t be more personable and tell more jokes. They can’t win, of course.)
And some dogs like to ride on boats.
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