The good news is that I don’t have to wear my cervical collar anymore, I’m back on my couch and the remodel looks great, although there still is a lot of stuff to put away.
The bad news is the bandage on my right ear, where I tried to slice it open on the roof of the chicken coop at the farm.
Before I explain that, let me swear to the heavens that even though it might seem like it, I don’t deliberately injure myself just so I will have something to write.
In fact, I was thinking about something else entirely when I absent-mindedly walked into the lower edge of a corrugated tin roof covering the mobile chicken coop at the farm near Wellsville, Mo. The killer chicken house I now call it.
The sharp edges of the wavy tin lacerated my ear. After a bunch of cursing and screaming (mine), my wife the registered nurse took a look at it.
Thank heavens she didn’t say it at the time, but she could see daylight through the ear lobe. So I sat with an ice bag and a cloth on my ear as she drove me to an urgent care center, because we know you’re supposed to go there first.
A doctor took a look at my ear and sent me to a nearby hospital emergency room, where they had access to plastic surgery. I feared I might be looking at an overnight stay, but the ER doc said she could fix it.
After all, as she pointed out, it wasn’t like I was a 15-year-old beauty queen.
I was a 65-year-old man who wouldn’t have his looks spoiled by a few stitches. That was my observation. She was too kind to say something like that. But we all knew the situation.
She stitched away using baseball-style stitches in one place. That’s why I wear a bandage on the damage, so no one with a baseball bat will mistake my ear for a ball and try to club it.
Thirteen stitches later, she was done and she did such a good job everyone came to admire it.
I’m telling everyone I was in a knife fight. I think that sounds so much better than saying I stupidly walked into a building.
I’m quickly running out of healthy body parts to injure, so I am going to try really hard not to do this again. Of course, I’ve said that before. I think the farm has it in for me.
My wife wants to cushion the chicken house roof and maybe other buildings and obstacles for me. I’m not sure there’s enough protective foam in the world for that.
On the bright side, for her at least, she got to send photos of my ear to her good buddies she went to nursing school with, and they all had some laughs. The photos probably earned me enough doofus husband points that I will win the dumb-husband contest at the upcoming reunion.