Out of the Frying Pan...

                   OK where were we... Oh yeah, no insurance. After having to quit my job I lost my employer insurance and I signed up for Medicaid. Cherie was working part-time with the promise of full time work, but that never came. Even though she was only part-time, Medicaid dropped her and I from the policy but kept the kids on, saying our income was too high. (like $800 a month is too high...?) So now we're in a bit of a pickle. If Cherie kept working we could bring home at least some money and hold out for a possible permanent position somewhere down the road, or she could quit her job make no money but I could continue with my diagnosis. Decisions, decisions.... Cherie and  I talked about it, prayed about it, talked to others about it, and I even talked to myself about it (again I didn't answer) and we decided the diagnosis was more important that the part-time work. It was very nerve racking, we were scared to lose our only source of income.
                   The day finally came for Cherie's last shift, she was excited and sad all at the same time. She had a later shift, and while she was getting ready disaster struck. To make a long story short, I was attacked by four panes of glass. They tried to eat my right arm up to my elbow. Narrowly missing vital blood vessels and nerves. I remember the instant it happened like it was in slow motion. I was viewing the whole incident as if I was a bystander. I could hear every crack of the glass, every rip of my skin. I pulled my arm out from the teeth of the window, and viewed a gruesome scene. I had three 3-5 inch gashes on my forearm and elbow. It really looked like a great white shark had just finished gnawing on my arm. My pointer, middle, and ring finger  were instantly numb. My wrist hung limply and blood dripped liberally down my arm onto the ground. Before the pain came I cried out in disgust at what had happened. I ran around the outside of the house to the back door, screaming for Cherie to call 911.

                   Those of you that already know me, know that I will not go to the doctor unless absolutely necessary. (I once waited 18 hours before going in for a burst appendix and another 6 hours for e-coli
poisoning) I was yelling for Cherie to grab a towel because of how much blood was dripping out. I feel so bad for her, she had no idea what had happened and I was demanding that she do three different things at once; call 911, get me a towel, and don't let the kids see. I was in so much shock that I was running around the house with Cherie at my heels begging me to sit down. I even ran to the next door neighbors and asked them to watch the kids. By this time the ambulance was pulling up along with a fire truck, and a few police cars. This is exactly what I need... Not only was my strength failing me, I completely wrecked my right arm. My dominant right arm.
                     As they loaded me into the ambulance my mind was with Cherie and the kids. Will they be OK? Were they frightened? Would they look at me the same? How could this happen? Luckily, I had some good paramedics that kept me calm and helped me keep my mind on the task at hand. "Can you feel this? Move your fingers for me. Don't think about that right now." I just kept thinking "OK guys! Put me out! MORPHINE!" But that didn't happen for another hour and a half...