Kids can say the darndest things. Especially with bones sticking out of their skin from compound fractures. My daughter Sage was about seven years old when she experienced her first run to emergency. Having bought all the kids new bikes for Christmas, naturally, they all wanted to ride them. I tell all the older kids to watch out for her. They ditch her. She was, “too slow.” Trying to keep up, she crashes on the dirt trail across the way. Hard. Off to emergency. Nothing like an emergency room on Christmas day. I’ve spent a couple there. So Sage has severe facial lacerations on her forehead, chin, inside her mouth, and lots of scrapes and rocks rolled under her skin. Daddy gets to hold her as two docs stitch her up and do clean up to ascertain any other injuries. With seventy two stitches going in, it took awhile. As the one doc stitches the inside of Sage’s mouth, he’s patering away on how, “It’s not that bad now, stay still!” The other doc is doing his thing inbetween the other doc swabbing blood of Sage’s lower face between long passes with the stitches. He has a stretecher deal in her mouth to gain access and see better. Sage’s eyes are rolling around like a great white shark’s. When they occasionally stop and look into mine, I whisper, “Tons of ice cream in your future, as soon as were out of here kid!” Finally, the doc is taking off the nibs of all the sutures and removing the mouth expander cage. All of the other inhabitants of emergency had been watching the proceedings. An expectant mom, a skate board kid with a broken knee. The usual. As the cage comes out, the doc says to Sage in a condescending tone, “Now, that wasn’t so bad!” Sage stands up and screams at him, “FUCK YOU ASSHOLE, YOUR ONE GIANT PRICK!” I get a stunned look on my face proclaiming I had no idea where she had heard such language. All the nurses were biting their arms to stop from laughing out loud… It’s cold and drizzily. We had a long, two inch around rope I’d brought back from my Uncle Wimpy’s dry dock for the kids to Tarzan on off tower one. I tell all the kids, mine and the neighbors, to stay off the rope. As the sun was going down, ice was forming. Once again, as I take off my boots to relax, a wild eyed Tegan runs into the house, screaming that her brother Tejas had done a flip off the rope and hit some rocks. Adding for effect, “His bones are sticking out of his arm!” Hmm. Might have to take him to the doc pops into my head. First I had to catch him. He had a theory that if he ran long and hard, the pain wouldn’t catch up to him. We chase him down about a mile away, following the blood trail. That compound fracture was one of those gifts that just keep on giving. Ended up having to have it reset, THREE TIMES, over the years. On the ride to emergency, I’m in the back of a Jeep Cherokee, holding a struggling Tejas in a head lock to keep him from running off again at the red lights. I shout to the driver to go around the backed up traffic and get to emergency. Some guy gets pissed and trys to road rage us. He chases us down the side of the road to teach us a lesson. As he catchs up at another red light, he gets out to confront me. I had the back window up so Tejas wouldn’t kick it out with all his struggling. The tattooed guy sees me covered with blood and a screaming kid going out of his mind. I say a calm, “You really want some of this pal?” He got back in his truck… I’m dead tired. Just did a rock garden and pond for a side job on a Sunday. I fall asleep on our outside swing. A bunch of dirt bikes roar to a stop in front of my gate. Frantic boys are tossing off helmets while they run towards the house. I almost didn’t say anything as they ran past me. I’m informed that David Phillips had just rolled his Blazer with the brand new giant tires and custom paint job, off the side of Kirpsies mountain. Oh, and they can’t find Tejas in the wreckage. It’s now pitch black. Up into the wild rolling hills we go. A fog comes slinking in. It kept getting better and better. The kids find the wrecked truck. Oh man. Look up ‘wrecked truck’ in the dictionary. There’s a picture of Phillips’ truck. All the other guys from the truck are already rolling in pain waiting for the pills to kick in. No one could go to the hospital because of warrants and such. Fine. We go back, once again to find Tejas. Now the Sheriff’s search and rescue arrives. Horse teams arrive. I head home around midnight to get another flashlight. I see a light on in Tejas’s house off bridge tower two. I shout out, “HEY, ANYONE UP THERE”? Tejas’s head pops out his door, he yells back, “THERE’S LIGHTS ALL OVER KIRPSIES MOUNTAIN, SOMTHING IS GOING ON!”…He was never in the truck.
