Over at my favorite internet haunt, as part of their Summer Cocktail Series, they are posting the stories and recipes that make us think of summer. I sent one over that’s up this morning. Swing by and check it out.
When I started blogging, I decided I didn’t want my blog to be a place for ranting about all the tiny dramas of a day. I didn’t want to send all my unnecessary negative energy out into cyberspace where it would multiply like a gremlin in Iowa. After all, this is why God created sisters and best friends. These people can listen to me whine, and I can save this blog for more thoughtful reflection.
So you can blame HLS for this post. I think her cell phone battery is dead. She’s not picking up.
Last night, while 5 was playing T-Ball, 6 had a playground accident that resulted in a sizable rip on the inside of his lip. I was about to declare this a wound for icing and a peroxide wash, when we lifted it up and, seeing the tear, all the moms gasped “ooh, I’d take him in.”
After a stop at the pediatrician, whom I sort of expected to prescribe ice and a peroxide wash (but they pulled it up and gasped “ooh, you should probably take him to emergency for sutures”) we headed to the closest ER … in North Minneapolis.
Unless you want to leave your car in a no parking zone, you have to park about a mile from the ER. As this didn’t seem like the kind of injury that justifies law-breaking, we parked in general parking. We were quite a sight really, me wrestling an overtired Kong into the hospital while 6 trailed a few steps behind clutching a bloody ice pack to his face.
When we got to ER, there was no one else there, but, still, we received a little beeper. It was one of those light-up, vibrating devices they give you when you’re waiting for a seat at TGIFridays. We took a seat in the waiting room. I wrestled with Kong, while 6 sat quietly and clutched a bloody ice pack to his face.
About 20 minutes later, our beeper beeped. We were checked in by a nice woman who gave us some papers and told us she was sending us to “Fast Track.”
I wrestled Kong into the elevator, and 6 followed with a bloody ice pack clutched to his face. “You can just have a seat,” said the nice woman behind the desk at Fast Track. 10 minutes later, she checked us in again and took us to a room where we were seen by a nurse. The nurse pulled back the lip and said “ooh, yeah, we’ll need to suture that. Wait here and the doctor will be in soon.”
We turned on the TV, and I wrestled Kong off of various pieces of medical equipment, while 6 clutched the bloody ice pack to his face.
A few minutes later the ER doc arrived. She looked at the lip. She asked some questions. She did not stitch.
She did, however, prescribe ice and a peroxide wash.
Every once in awhile I get a reminder about what life was like back on that BigLaw partnership track. Today I received the following out-of-office auto reply from a lawyer:
I’ll be on semi-vacation until June 30. If I don’t respond right away to your email, please call me on my cell phone: ###-###-####.
Believe me, I understand that constant-availability and rapid-response is fast becoming necessary for client-retention and advancement in most careers. But isn’t there any time that’s sacred any more?
