OK.  I told you I’d let you know why the police know me.  These (yes, more than one, but you can only take one at a time) stories are quite embarrassing.  But they’re true.  That makes them worse.  Here goes.  Pour a cup of coffee, or whatever, and sit down.  

Incident #1

One night a few years ago, my husband came home to get my phone to take to get fixed.  While he was away, I was getting the girls ready for bed.  I was opening a tube of baby toothpaste that didn’t have the peel away safety seal.  No problem.  I knew how to fix it.  So, I grabbed a steak knife…can you see where this is going?  Well, as I’m stabbing at the toothpaste, I miss and slice my hand (the fatty part under the thumb).  Oh. My. Gosh.  It was a gusher.  At the time, our neighbor’s son was a police officer who was home at the time.  I asked my oldest to run over there and ask him if it’s something serious or what I should do about it.  In the meantime, I grabbed a kitchen towel to stop the blood from spewing all over the room.  In my attempts not to faint, I held my arm up…it was my left arm.  Did I hit an artery or an important vein?  I was certain I did.  It was taking for-freaking-ever for him to come over.  When he finally arrived, he looked at my hand and said he wasn’t sure.  WHAT???!!!???? Aren’t you, of all people, supposed to know?  Oh, my gosh, I’m sure I’m in dire danger.  He says to hold on for a minute.  So, what other choice do I have?  A million minutes went by and I finally opened the door to see where he was.  Well, when I opened the door, to my eyes did appear, the finest of all the metro’s heroes.  Let me help you understand.  If you’ve ever seen the movie Monster’s Inc., you’ll remember the scene where Sully and all the monsters are entering the factory and the door opens and they walk in slow motion.  OK.  That’s what was happening from the end of my driveway.  There were two EMTs, two firemen, four policemen.  All young.  All gorgeous.  I’m still in gym clothes, from the morning.  Of course.  They all come in my house and basically swarm me.  Now, I’m feeling a little woozy. 

Gorgeous #1 asks to see the slash in my hand.  I show him and he looks it over and we discuss what happened.  I told him I felt a little lightheaded.  We all proceeded to move into the living room where I sit on my throne as my gorgeous subjects sat at my feet.  Gorgeous #1 said since I felt lightheaded that we should go to the hospital.  I didn’t think that was necessary.  He said it was.  I said, OK, I’ll get my keys and follow him there.  Gorgeous #2 said, nope.  I had to ride in the ambulance.  Uh oh.  OK. So, all the gorgeouses and I walk outside to the ambulance.  I part ways with the others.  Farewell my loves.  Police officer’s mom came over to watch the girls…I know you were wondering.  I hop into the ambulance and Gorgeous #3 straps me in.  I asked him if we could turn on the siren or lights.  He said it wasn’t that big of an emergency.  I begged to differ.  Cars were passing us on the Interstate.  Really?  We get to the hospital and I’m about to unbuckle and hop down, when Gorgeous #2 says, no, ma’am (way to ruin it) we have to wheel you in.  Oh, no. I’m starting to see the err of my ways.  I’m sitting on this gurney while he checks me in.  By this time, I’m ready to run like the wind out of there.  So, I go into the waiting room, obviously finding the least sickly looking person I could find to sit near.  ICK. 

When, out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure darkening the door.  OH, NO.  It’s the Mr.  I’m now thinking, act like you’re in extreme, excruciating (think labor without an epidural…been there) pain.  He sits down beside me and says, let me see it.  Oh, I let him see the inevitable future scar.  He had a hard time seeing it.  To be fair, it’s really bright in there and can hurt your eyes.  Mr. asked me WHY didn’t I ask one of the many men if I could use a cell phone.  Well, I was holding a stab wound and was bombarded with attention and it just slipped my mind.  I think that’s understandable.  He didn’t quite agree.  We go into the nurse’s office and Mr. asked if I really needed to be there.  I turned to look at the nurse as if to say “You better say ‘yes.’”  She was really smart.  She asked me when I had my last tetanus shot.  Genius.  I couldn’t remember.  I had to get one.  She then proceeded to bandage my wound.  That was an ordeal.  She cleaned it, as all top-notch physical care personnel do.  She then took liquid band-aid and sealed it.  That’s not all.  She topped it with a band-aid.  It was SERIOUS. 

The ER doctor came to talk to me and told me I was going to have to come up with a better story than what really happened.  I think not.  This had drama, intrigue, violence and just a hint of romance (between my husband and me…he came to rescue me.  Get your head out of the gutter and stop thinking about the gorgeouses that were in my house.  This is NOT that kind of story. Sheesh.).  That, my friend, was a fun Friday night.