So, there I was, feeling pretty chuffed with myself actually. My wife was out with the girls and I had the responsibility of the kids all to myself. I had cooked dinner, tidied up, bathed the kids and got them to bed. All that was left was the dishes. That’s when it all came down like a house of cards.
Earlier I had navigated the vegetable chopping, potato mashing and burger burning without incident. Surely the dishes would be a breeze. Wrong. The chefs knife I used to cut the vegetables slipped (cursed tremor) and I got a lovely cut across the middle of my right hand.
So, I disturbed my wife’s dinner to ask her to come home and take me to hospital. So we pondered which emergency to attend (A calculated informed decision that I will blog about later) and decided to go to Box Hill.
When we arrived at the hospital the cut had yet to cease bleeding, so the triage nurse re-bandaged it up and I awaited the doctor to have a look at it. Fortunately we did not have to wait too long, and by that time the bleeding had stopped.
As a result the doctor decided not to stitch it up and simply decided to re-bandage it. I guess that it does beg the question as whether the hospital trip was necessary? Simply put, yes.
It is always better to go than not to and wish you did. Let the medical professionals be the judge. So anyway, we were home before midnight with my pride taking the biggest hit. On the bright side, my wife told me not to do the dishes any more;) Until next time, stay wellJ
