Flesh Wound Reflections

(The blog will not let me indent, or space properly, argh!)

Reality began imitating art, as the adults in our home read the Twilight series. I became clutsy, like Bella. I walked in the front door of our home, I slipped, I fell hard -- right on my cushy bottom. (Luckily my backside is well padded, it lessened the impact.) And Charles, well, he was reminded that he is not immortal, yet. . .

The Wound

We received a brand new set of knives for Christmas. Charles was anxious to try the new sharp-edges out on something, he chose cheese. Charles was literally "cutting the cheese" when I heard a loud,"Ahhhhhhh!" coming from the kitchen.
I ran into the kitchen to find Charles by the sink, running water over his finger. The cheese on the table was spotted in blood, and a shiny silver-bladed knife was lying there, blood stained, and guilty. At first it looked little more than a mere scratch, but then, the blood kept flowing, and flowing, and Niagara Falls -- flowing.
Charles was laughing (while leaning over the sink, examining his blood-soaked finger). He cheerfully stated that we had ourselves some quality knives. But the blood kept spilling from his finger, and it was not going to stop. I was not laughing.
I quickly threw off my robe, and threw on some jeans, and a sweat-shirt. We had to go to the doctor, and fast! I grabbed William (the kids were out with Grandma and Grandpa -- thank goodness!) and we headed out to the Urgent Care, Charles holding his finger in a wad of red paper towels .
Normally, I am a very careful, cautious, and reserved driver. Especially when the roads are icy, and snow-covered. My caution flew to the wind. My normal slower-than-speed limit driving, was replaced by squeezing the lemons, and ignoring the posted numbers on the side of the road. (I figured, I was carrying a criminal prosecutor, he is law enforcement, even though I was not -- I was saving one of their kind, police that is.) Truly, my mind was fixed on one thing -- getting Charles to help! The blood should have been letting up, but it wasn't.
We arrived at the location where the Urgent Care was suppose to be, but the windows displayed "For Lease" signs. I ran into the nearest store and asked for directions to the closest medical office, they were helpful and we were on our way again.
We found the right place, and we zipped right in. I dropped Charles off at the door and found a parking space (it was unusually busy). The nurse (seeing so much blood) took us back right away.
She examined his laceration, saying words like, "Ohhhh, and Ummmm." The blood was still pumping out of Charles' finger, keeping tempo with his heart-beat, a very disturbing image. She said he had hit an artery, hence the waterfall of blood.
Moments later, a doctor came in to inspect the wound. Stitches. He would need stitches. He was hoping for the glue treatment, or something less severe, but there was no other option. Stitches it would be.
I stood there, with William in my arms, feeling quite nauseous, as Charles continued to smile -- without fear. He was a rock, a rock with a sense of humor. It was comforting to my churning stomach, though I still felt unusually weak. The nurse seemed to appreciate his jokes, and light-hearted dispostition.
The doctor came in, he worked a little numbing-medicine magic, and began the process of putting his skin back in place.
I watched the whole thing, wide-eyed, and curious, while shielding William's eyes behind a curtain. Charles closed his eyes and cringed as they stuck a needle in his cut, to numb the area. That act also seemed to slow the profuse bleeding. The doctor then proceeded to take out his magic thread, and he weaved it in and out of Charles pointer finger. It was really quite horrid to watch, but I could not turn my eyes away. I felt that if I watched, maybe the doctor would take special care not to make a mistake.
The doctor was fluid in his motion, and quick with his hands. It was like watching a seasoned seamstress, repairing a simple split seam. After many stitches, the doctor tied up the loose ends, and finished the job. The nurse offered ointment and band-aids, and off we went with instructions, and relief. We were grateful, and Charles was on his way to being "whole" again.

(I forgot to take a picture of his finger)

Reflection

We made our way home, and I thought about how quickly mishaps can happen. Most days you just go about life, sometimes eventful, sometime not. Some days are thrill-packed and meaningful, and some days seem void of action and purpose.
It is not until somebody gets hurt, you realize, as humans, we are mortal -- susceptible to injury, pain, and even death. Our days are numbered, our bodies are frail. We are in the hands of Deity, without ultimate control of our circumstances, or our departure time from this life. There is something about a flesh wound that stops you in your mortal tracks, and makes you consider your vulnerability.
However, these same human defects, injuries, pain, and death; remind us how glorious it will be one day, to be immortal! There will be a time, no. . . an eternity; of no injury, no pain, no death. Forever free of the frailties and weaknesses of mortality! What a fantastic thought, what a glorious truth!! The mind shutters in delight at the reality!
We cannot control all of our circumstances, this is true; the world is set in motion. But we can always control one thing: our agency. We can choose how we will react to what earth life throws our way. Whatever the injury or pain (or other trials that the earth has to divert) we can choose to follow God, always.
We can be determined to align, or intertwine, our will with His! As a result, we find happiness! If we live worthy, while mortal, there will be a day when we will be ripped from this limited mortality, to dwell forever with God, limitless, immortal. What a beautiful and stimulating thought! Immortal . . . Forever . . . because of Him . . .