June 24, 2011

• On my knees and thanking the good Lord.

  I could have become a widow today.  The words are hard to think of, harder still to write.  I went to the Y to pick Matthew up from work and told him that he was going to take me home instead of my staying with him through his karate class as we usually do.  MK had had trouble with the blazer so someone had to be around to pick Doug up from work and with all the rain this week he would very likely be done earlier than usual.  Prophetic words.

  We pulled into the driveway and MK met us at the garage.  She couldn’t wait to tell us that Isabella had run away from home again.  She does that once in awhile so I was really not concerned.  The next bit of news was the kicker. Doug was already home from work, he’s upstairs in the bedroom.  Doug never comes into the house right away when he gets home.  You have to understand, my husband either makes grain mixes all day long or he works in the fields picking stone.  Either way he is beyond filthy when he comes home.  There is no way he would come into the house and he would have to be suffering severe memory loss to go up to our bedroom when he is that dirty.  MK was still talking and my heart was in my stomach.  He has slipped at work and had fallen against the mixer while it was still running was all I heard. 

  The wife of every farmer that I know is aware of the inherant danger posed by the spinning parts of farm machinery.  I don’t think there is a farm family that hasn’t been had some member lost or maimed as the result of a farm accident that involves machinery.  My husband lost a cousin and nearly lost an uncle and we nearly lost our oldest son. That’s enough for me to be scared.  Safety isn’t just a word on this farm it is a way of life.

  I went into the house and calmly put my bags down and went up to see what had brought my husband home early from work.  He was in the bathroom, having just taken a shower and, in spite of his modesty, I walked in to see what I could see.  The sight of blood running in two rivulets down his left leg was enough to mobilize me.  My heart skips a beat just writing about it.  The first aid kit, scissors, ice packs, towels, peroxide, and pillows were gathered up.  By the time I got back to the bedroom he was dressed and lying on the bed.  I cannot describe the wounds except to say that I trimmed a sizeable chunk of skin off his already bony knee.  The bruising and swelling are going to be epic and I have no doubt by tomorrow the stiffness and pain are not going to be a trifling matter.

  He described what happened to me in detail, I think that is how men deal with that kind of thing. When I got done cleaning him up, bandaging his wounds and packing his leg in ice, I wanted to either lose my temper (how I deal with such things) or break down and cry. 

  I shed a few tears but said more prayers.  Thanks be to God that once again he has spared our family.  He has the whole weekend to heal ’cause I know bright and early Monday morning he will be back to work whether I think he should or not.

  • 6:03 pm
  • 8 Comments