stitches and sweet tea

It's China time, in my first grade class again, and we are practicing eating with chopsticks this week.  I had bought a can of mini corn, you know the kind you find in Asian dishes, and began to open it up with my jankety can opener.  I had made a few openings in the can, but had to resort to my normal method of prying it open with a knife.  I am not sure exactly what happened next, but my index finger caught the sharp part of the lid and blood came a-pouring out.  I grabbed the school's version of a paper towel and it quickly filled up.  Grabbed another and then thought, maybe I should call the office for back-up?  Not sure what these 6 year olds are going to do with me if I pass out?

Back up arrived, I called Jonathan and he had to LEAVE PRACTICE (the earth stopped spinning, he is sure of it) to come and help me through this time.  We decided it was so close to quitting time anyway, we should just take the girls out of school.  Madi's first comment was, "please drop me at the house, I cannot handle the blood.  Oh, and, I think there is a new I-Carly on today."  But, my sweet MC said, "I am going with mom." 

On the way to the Immediate Care clinic, she had lots of questions, but most of them were about the exact location of the clinic:  What shops are nearby?  It's right by McAlister's right?  How long do you think it will all take? 
J drops Madi off and meets us at the clinic where after a good washing, the cut looked really minor.  

I was sure they were going to release me, just as I was.  He gave me the smirk and said, "You know what a Sheffield would have done, don't you?"  He was referring to the time he accidentally jammed a box cutter into his thigh and instead of getting medical care for the wound, he tied a bandana around it and finished his shift at I.G.A. and after a couple of weeks (and multiple bloody bandanas later), it healed up.  I was a tad embarrassed for making him LEAVE PRACTICE, so I told him to go ahead, that MC could take care of me.  

The nurse leaves, the PA comes in, and to my horror, it is the "mean one."  We have had her before, and she is rough and tough and less than friendly.  She looks and says, "I'll stitch it up."  I ask her if that is really necessary and she says, "Yes."  She leaves, leaving no room for a discussion of options or a calming of nerves and I begin to have my mini panic attack.       

She returns and tells me to lay back and I begin to hyperventilate (something I do from time to time just to embarrass myself and my family).  She ignores my heavy breathing and begins her sewing.  MC leaves my head in favor of a better view of the action.  The mean PA asks MC how old she is and compliments her on being able to watch so intently without fear (unlike your wuss of a mother)...she did not say this, but I'm sure she was thinking it.  Two minutes later, my mouth numb, my feet beginning to curl inward from lack of oxygen, I suppose, she is finished.  She tells me that someone will be in soon to clean me up.   

I am happy it's over and proud of my baby and her strong stomach and how she insisted on staying with her mama.  I sit up to find little MC the color of pea soup and teary eyed (Darn, I thought...no medical career now).  

Me:  Oh, honey, I am sorry.  Did it scare you because mom started breathing funny?

MC:  No.

Me:  Did the blood make you feel queasy?

MC:  No.  I just need to get out of here, but...we are going to get sweet tea and mac & cheese from McAalister's, right? 

Poor, poor, pitiful ME whose daughter was just in it for the sweet tea:  Sure.

I called Jonathan and told him to LEAVE PRACTICE to come and help his little girl (really I meant me, but used MC's lack of color issue as the leverage I needed).  He LEFT PRACTICE (for the third time) and walked us to McAlister's and then to our car and then went back TO PRACTICE.

If you are wondering what Jonathan's penance was for not being there to hold my hand through the trauma of three whole stitches by the "mean one," it was:  watching The Bachelor with me

Someone said that with the next incident, they bet he will just skip PRACTICE entirely; But, if you are a coach's wife, you know that is a bet worth taking.  I'd bet you one large sweet tea and a side of mac & cheese he doesn't.

Added just for you, HD.