Hello, friends. I'm back from a lovely and restful vacation. We spent a couple of…
Today’s post is supposed to be all about my brother-in-law Randy’s 60th birthday party. Friday night he had a big bash down by the river behind his house (I’ve talked about this place special before, if you recall) with a bonfire, family and friends, loads of food and folk guitars and singing. He kept referring to is as a Vernal Equinox party but it was truly in honor of his birthday. I thought I’d have loads of pictures to show you. Pictures of people eating and drinking, singing and laughing, doing what our family and friends do best. I have one. Picture that is.
This is Dale and Randy’s friend Mike before.
Before what, you ask? Before Dale decided to hoist a flag. And before the top of the flag pole and the metal pulley that hauls the flag up the pole came crashing down and smashed into the side of his face.
I present Exhibit A. This is the 6 lb. hunk of metal and wood that split my dear husband’s temple wide open just before the festivities were about to get under way. Scary looking, isn’t it?
I was helping out with a few things when I heard Dale call my name. I looked over and he was on the ground. I thought he had slipped and fallen so I called over, “Are you okay?” And he looked at me in the most vulnerable and scared way and said, “I’m hurt. I’m bleeding.” That’s when I saw that the side of his face was covered in blood. I ran to him and saw a gash on his temple and knew immediately that he needed stitches. Probably a bunch of stitches from the depth and length of the cut. I squeezed it together and started yelling, “I need help! I need help!” I spotted Dale’s sister Lisa (she’s a nurse) and called her name. She told me afterwards that she’d never heard me sound like that before and she came running. So did Randy and Mary. They all thought Dale was having a heart attack or something, the poor things.
While I raced around frantically looking for my cell phone, Lisa and Mary got clean towels to apply to Dale’s face and Dale’s dad came over with a golf cart (we hadn’t brought our cars all the way down to the river) to bring Dale up to my Jeep. It seemed like everything was happening in slow motion but I think we were on our way to the hospital within 10 minutes of the accident.
We got to the hospital and I have to say, as awful as it sounds, that it was a good thing he was bleeding so much as we were seen much quicker than I think we might have been otherwise. The doctor explained that Dale had cut a blood vessel in his temple and that’s why there was so much blood. 18 stitches and two hours later and we were ready to leave. Dale was sporting a giant goose egg on his temple and an ace bandage wrapped around his head to apply pressure to the wound to decrease the swelling. His eye was already turning black and blue but he insisted on going back to the party. No surprise there, eh?
He was greeted as the conquering hero by everyone there. I made him sit, he made me let him have a couple of beers. And then we headed home. What a night!
By the way, Randy writes a weekly column for the Brockton Enterprise. You can read his version of the party here, if you’re interested.
There are pictures for those who want to see his eye as it looked on Saturday and Sunday. Just look in the extended entry. And if you don’t want to see them then don’t scroll up when you leave a comment. It’s not that bad, but then again, I’m used to it. It might not be good for the squeamish.
I shudder at the thought of how much worse things could have been and I will be forever grateful that Dale wasn’t hurt more severely. Really, this was a close call.
Saturday afternoon, still wearing the pressure bandage.
Sunday afternoon, no more bandage but UGH.