Blood and sawdust
Sunday, June 1st, 2008Things were going great in the kitchen. All the faceframes are up; the drawers are custom built and all but two are installed; the undercounter lights are installed. Our four year-old was off at a friend’s playing today, so it seemed like a perfect day to rip some maple and start creating our twenty-plus cabinet doors. I was working on the router when I looked over and saw my wife jumping around.
Jumping is not something you want to see when someone has been running a tablesaw. I saw her let go of her thumb long enough to remove a board from the saw so it wouldn’t take off; she also managed to turn the saw off. Then came the questions. What happened? How bad was it? Was this a hospital type of cut, or was it just a little nick?
Five minutes after thumb met blade we were on the road, two year old in hand. We threw him out the door as we drove by a friends’ house and headed to Northside Hospital where we figured out a couple of strange coincidences. First, this was the last day that our insurance was officially covered by my company before COBRA kicked in. There’s something a bit strange about going into a place like that and telling them that you’re unemployed. Second, our friends first baby was born 13 hours before my wife’s accident, and they were on the other side of the same hospital. How often does a new dad get the call, “hey, we just happened to be at the hospital today, too. Mind if we drop by and meet your new daughter? Oh yeah, never mind my wife’s bloody hand or that we’re covered in sawdust..” Maybe it’s best that the need for drugs was stronger than the desire to meet a new, little person.
My favorite line of the day came from yours truly. The nurse practitioner asked what we were doing, and we explained that hiring someone to remodel your kitchen costs and arm and a leg. To which I added that doing it ourselves only cost a thumb.

